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THE   FRENCH   AND    ITALIAN 
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HAWTHORNE'S  NOTE-BOOKS  IN  FRANCE 
AND  ITALY. 


FRANCE. 

HOTEL  DE  LOUVRE,  January  6,  1858.  —  On  Tuesday 
morning,  our  dozen  trunks  and  half-dozen  carpet 
bags  being  all  ready  packed  and  labelled,  we  began  to 
prepare  for  our  journey  two  or  three  hours  before 
light.  Two  cabs  were  at  the  door  by  half  past  six, 
and  at  seven  we  set  out  for  the  London  Bridge  station, 
while  it  was  still  dark  and  bitterly  cold.  There  were 
already  many  people  in  the  streets,  growing  more  nu 
merous  as  we  drove  city-ward ;  and,  in  Newgate  Street, 
there  was  such  a  number  of  market-carts,  that  we  al 
most  came  to  a  dead  lock  with  some  of  them.  At  the 
station  we  found  several  persons  who  were  apparently 
going  in  the  same  train  with  us,  sitting  round  the  fire 
of  the  waiting-room.  Since  I  came  to  England  there 
has  hardly  been  a  morning  when  I  should  have  less 
willingly  bestirred  myself  before  daylight;  so  sharp 
and  inclement  was  the  atmosphere.  We  started  at 
half  past  eight,  having  taken  through  tickets  to  Paris 
by  way  of  Folkestone  and  Boulogne.  A  foot-warmer 

VOL.  1.  1  A 


M235197 , 


FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

(a  long,  flat  tin  utensil,  full  of  hot  water)  was  put  into 
the  carriage  just  before  we  started ;  but  it  did  not 
make  us  more  than  half-  comfortable,  and  the  frost 
soon  began  to  cloud  the  windows,  and  shut  out  the 
prospect,  so  that  we  could  only  glance  at  the  green 
fields  —  immortally  green,  whatever  winter  can  do 
against  them  —  and,  at  here  and  there,  a  stream  or 
pool  with  the  ice  forming  on  its  borders.  It  was  the 
first  cold  weather  of  a  very  mild  season.  The  snow 
began  to  fall  in  scattered  and  almost  invisible  flakes ; 
and  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  stayed  our  English  welcome 
out,  and  were  to  find  nothing  genial  and  hospitable 
there  any  more. 

At  Folkestone,  we  were  deposited  at  a  railway  sta 
tion  close  upon  a  shingly  beach,  on  which  the  sea 

broke  in  foam,   and  which  J reported  as  strewn 

with  shells  and  star-fish;  behind  was  the  town,  with 
an  old  church  in  the  midst ;  and,  close  at  hand,  the 
pier,  where  lay  the  steamer  in  which  we  were  to  em 
bark.  But  the  air  was  so  wintry,  that  I  had  no  heart 

to  explore  the  town,  or  pick  up  shells  with  J on 

the  beach ;  so  we  kept  within  doors  during  the  two 
hours  of  our  stay,  now  and  then  looking  out  of  the 
windows  at  a  fishing-boat  or  two,  as  they  pitched  and 
rolled  with  an  ugly  and  irregular  motion,  such  as  the 
British  Channel  generally  communicates  to  the  craft 
that  navigate  it. 

At  about  one  o'clock  we  went  on  board,  and  were 
soon  under  steam,  at  a  rate  that  quickly  showed  a 
long  line  of  the  white  cliffs  of  Albion  behind  us.  It 
is  a  very  dusky  white,  by  the  by;  and  the  cliffs  them- 


I8.r>8.]  FRANCE.  3 

selves  do  not  seem,  at  a  distance,  to  be  of  imposing 
height,  and  have  too  even  an  outline  to  be  picturesque. 

As  we  increased  our  distance  from  England,  the 
French  coast  came  more  and  more  distinctly  in  sight, 
with  a  low,  wavy  outline,  not  very  well  worth  looking 
at,  except  because  it  was  the  coast  of  France.  In 
deed,  I  looked  at  it  but  little ;  for  the  wind  was  bleak 
and  boisterous,  and  I  went  down  into  the  cabin,  where 
I  found  the  fire  very  comfortable,  and  several  people 
were  stretched  on  sofas  in  a  state  of  placid  wretched 
ness I  have  never  suffered  from  sea-sickness, 

but  had  been  somewhat  apprehensive  of  this  rough 
strait  between  England  and  France,  which  seems  to 
have  more  potency  over  people's  stomachs  than  ten 
times  the  extent  of  sea  in  other  quarters.  Our  pas 
sage  was  of  two  hours,  at  the  end  of  which  we  landed 
on  French  soil,  and  found  ourselves  immediately  in 
the  clutches  of  the  custom-house  officers,  who,  how 
ever,  merely  made  a  momentary  examination  of  my 
passport,  and  allowed  us  to  pass  without  opening  even, 
one  of  our  carpet-bags.  The  great  bulk  of  our  luggage 
had  been  registered  through  to  Paris,  for  examination 
after  our  arrival  there. 

We  left  Boulogne  in  about  an  hour  after  our  arri 
val,  when  it  was  already  a  darkening  twilight.  The 
weather  had  grown  colder  than  ever,  since  our  arrival 
in  sunny  France,  and  the  night  was  now  setting  in, 
wickedly  black  and  dreary.  The  frost  hardened  upon 
the  carriage  windows  in  such  thickness  that  I  could 
scarcely  scratch  a  peep-hole  through  it ;  but,  from 
such  glimpses  as  I  could  catch,  the  aspect  of  the 


4:  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

country  seemed  pretty  much  to  resemble  the  Decem 
ber  aspect  of  my  dear  native  land,  —  broad,  bare, 
brown  fields,  with  streaks  of  snow  at  the  foot  of  ridges, 
and  along  fences,  or  in  the  furrows  of  ploughed  soil. 
There  was  ice  wherever  there  happened  to  be  water  to 
form  it. 

We  had  feet-warmers  in  the  carriage,  but  the  cold 
crept  in  nevertheless ;  and  I  do  not  remember  hardly 
in  my  life  a  more  disagreeable  short  journey  than 
this,  my  first  advance  into  French  territory.  My  im 
pression  of  France  will  always  be  that  it  is  an  Arctic 
region.  At  any  season  of  the  year,  the  tract  over 
which  we  passed  yesterday  must  be  an  uninteresting 
one  as  regards  its  natural  features ;  and  the  only 
adornment,  as  far  as  I  could  observe,  which  art  has 
given  it,  consists  in  straight  rows  of  very  stiff-looking 
and  slender-stemmed  trees.  In  the  dusk  they  re 
sembled  poplar-trees. 

Weary  and  frost-bitten,  —  morally,  if  not  physically, 
—  we  reached  Amiens  in  three  or  four  hours,  and 
here  I  underwent  much  annoyance  from  the  French 
railway  officials  and  attendants,  who,  I  believe,  did 
not  mean  to  incommode  me,  but  rather  to  forward 
my  purposes  as  far  as  they  well  could.  If  they  would 
speak  slowly  and  distinctly  I  might  understand  them 
well  enough,  being  perfectly  familiar  with  the  written 
language,  and  knowing  the  principles  of  its  pronun 
ciation  ;  but,  in  their  customary  rapid  utterance,  it 
sounds  like  a  string  of  mere  gabble.  When  left  to 

myself,  therefore,  I  got  into  great  difficulties It 

gives  a  taciturn  personage  like  myself  a  new  concep- 


1858.]  FRANCE.  5 

tion  as  to  the  value  of  speech,  even  to  him,  when  he 
finds  himself  unable  either  to  speak  or  understand. 

Finally,  being  advised  on  all  hands  to  go  to  the 
Hotel  de  Rhin,  we  were  carried  thither  in  an  omni 
bus,  rattling  over  a  rough  pavement,  through  an  in 
visible  and  frozen  town;  and,  on  our  arrival,  were 
ushered  into  a  handsome  salon,  as  chill  as  a  tomb. 
They  made  a  little  bit  of  a  wood  fire  for  us  in  a 
Jow  and  deep  chimney-hole,  which  let  a  hundred 
times  more  heat  escape  up  the  flue  than  it  sent  into 
the  room. 

In  the  morning  we  sallied  forth  to  see  the  Cathe 
dral. 

^The  aspect  of  the  old  French  town  was  very  differ 
ent  from  anything  English ;  whiter,  infinitely  cleaner ; 
higher  and  narrower  houses,  the  entrance  to  most 
of  which  seeming  to  be  through  a  great  gateway, 
affording  admission  into  a  cencral  court-yard ;  a  pub 
lic  square,  with  a  statue  in  the  middle,  and  another 
statue  in  a  neighboring  street.  We  met  priests  in 
three-cornered  hats,  long  frock-coats,  and  knee- 
breeches  ;  also  soldiers  and  gendarmes,  and  peasants 
and  children ,  clattering  over  the  pavements  in  wooden 
shoes. 

It  makes  a  great  impression  of  outlandishness  to 
see  the  signs  over  the  shop  doors  in  a  foreign  tongue. 
If  the  cold  had  not  been  such  as  to  dull  my  sense 
of  novelty,  and  make  all  my  perceptions  torpid,  I 
should  have  taken  in  a  set  of  pew  iniDressions,  and 
enjoyed  them  very  much.  As  if-  was,  1  cared  little 
for  what  I  sawt  but  ,wt  J^A  Jife  enough  lefy  to  enjoy 


6  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1658. 

the  Cathedral  of  Amiens,  which  has   many  features 
unlike  those  of  English  cathedrals. 

It  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  cold,  white  town,  and 
has  a  high-shouldered  look  to  a  spectator  accustomed 
to  the  minsters  of  England,  which  cover  a  great  space 
of  ground  in  proportion  to  their  height.  The  impres 
sion  the  latter  gives  is  of  magnitude  and  mass ;  this 
French  cathedral  strikes  one  as  lofty.  The  exterior  is 
venerable,  though  but  little  time-worn  by  the  action 
of  the  atmosphere  ;  and  statues  still  keep  their  places 
in  numerous  niches,  almost  as  perfect  as  when  first" 
placed  there  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  principal 
doors  are  deep,  elaborately  wrought,  pointed  arches ; 
and  the  intenor  seemed  to  us,  at  the  moment,  as 
grand  as  any  that  we  had  seen,  and  to  afford  as  vast 
an  idea  of  included  space ;  it  being  of  such  an  airy 
height,  and  with  no  screen  between  the  chancel  and 
nave,  as  in  all  the  English  cathedrals.  We  saw  the 
differences,  .too,  betwrixt  a  church  in  which  the  same 
form  of  worship  for  which  it  was  originally  built  is 
still  kept  up,  and  those  of  England,  where  it  has  been 
superseded  for  centuries ;  for  here,  in  the  recess  of 
every  arch  of  the  side  aisles,  beneath  each  lofty  win- 
dow,  there  was  a  chapel  dedicated  to  some  saint,  and 
adorned  with  great  marble  sculptures  of  the  cruci 
fixion,  and  with  pictures,  execrably  bad,  in  all  cases, 
and  various  kinds  of  gilding  and  ornamentation.  Im 
mensely  tall  wax  candles  stand  upon  the  altars  of 
these  chapels,  and  before  one  sat  a  woman,  with  a  great 
supply  of  tapers,  one  of  which  was  burning.  I  sup 
pose  these  were  to  be  lighted  as  offerings  to  the 


1858.]  FRANCE.  7 

saints,  by  the  true  believers.  Artificial  flowers  were 
hung  at  some  of  the  shrines,  or  placed  under  glass. 
In  every  chapel,  moreover,  there  was  a  confessional,  — 
a  little  oaken  structure,  about  as  big  as  a  sentry-box, 
with  a  closed  part  for  the  priest  to  sit  in,  and  an 
open  one  for  the  penitent  to  kneel  at,  and  speak, 
through  the  open-work  of  the  priest's  closet.  Monu 
ments,  mural  and  others,  to  long-departed  worthies, 
and  images  of  the  Saviour,  the  Virgin,  and  saints, 
were  numerous  everywhere  about  the  church ;  and 
in  the  chancel  there  was  a  great  deal  of  quaint  and 
curious  sculpture,  fencing  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  where 
the  High  Altar  stands.  There  is  not  much  painted 
glass ;  one  or  two  very  rich  and  beautiful  rose-win 
dows,  however,  that  looked  antique  ;  and  the  great 
easteni  window  which,  I  think,  is  modern.  The  pave 
ment  has,  probably,  never  been  renewed,  as  one  piece 
of  work,  since  the  structure  was  erected,  and  is  foot 
worn  by  the  successive  generations,  though  still  in 
excellent  repair.  I  saw  one  of  the  small,  square  stones 
in  it,  bearing  the  date  of  1597,  and  no  doubt  there 
are  a  thousand  older  ones.  It  was  gratifying  to  find 
the  Cathedral  in  such  good  condition,  without  any 
traces  of  recent  repair ;  and  it  is  perhaps  a  mark  of 
difference  between  French  and  English  character,  that 
the  Revolution  in  the  former  country,  though  all 
religious  worship  disappears  before  it,  does  not  seem 
to  have  caused  such  violence  to  ecclesiastical  monu 
ments,  as  the  Reformation  and  the  reign  of  Puritan 
ism  in  the  latter.  I  did  not  see  a  mutilated  shrine, 
or  even  a  broken-nosed  image,  in  the  whole  Cathedral. 


8  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

But,  probably,  the  very  rage  of  the  English  fanatics 
against  idolatrous  tokens,  and  their  smashing  blows  at 
them,  were  symptoms  of  sincerer  religious  faith  than 
the  French  were  capable  of.  These  last  did  not  care 
enough  about  their  Saviour  to  beat  down  his  crucified 
image ;  and  they  preserved  the  works  of  sacred  art, 
for  the  sake  only  of  what  beauty  there  was  in  them. 

While  we  were  in  the  Cathedral,  we  saw  several 
persons  kneeling  at  their  devotions  on  the  steps  of  the 
chancel  and  elsewhere.  One  dipped  his  fingers  in  the 
holy  water  at  the  entrance  :  by  the  by,  I  looked  into 
the  stone  basin  that  held  it,  and  saw  it  full  of  ice. 
Could  not  all  that  sanctity  at  least  keep  it  thawed  1 
Priests — jolly,  fat,  mean-looking  fellows,  in  white 
robes  —  went  hither  and  thither,  but  did  not  inter 
rupt  or  accost  us. 

There  were  other  peculiarities,  which  I  suppose  I 
shall  see  more  of  in  my  visits  to  other  churches,  but 
now  we  were  all  glad  to  make  our  stay  as  brief  as 
possible,  the  atmosphere  of  the  Cathedral  being  so 
bleak,  and  its  stone  pavement  so  icy  cold  beneath  our 
feet.  We  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  the  chamber 
maid  brought  me  a  book,  in  which  she  asked  me  to 
inscribe  my  name,  age,  profession,  country,  destination, 
and  the  authorization  under  which  I  travelled.  After 
the  freedom  of  an  English  hotel,  so  much  greater  than 
even  that  of  an  American  one,  where  they  make  you 
disclose  your  name,  this  is  not  so  pleasant. 

We  left  Amiens  at  half  past  one  ;  and  I  can  tell  as 
little  of  the  country  between  that  place  and  Paris,  aa 
between  Boulogne  and  Amiens.  The  windows  of  our 


1858.]  FRANCE.  9 

railway  carriage  were  already  frosted  with  French 
breath  when  we  got  into  it,  and  the  ice  grew  thicker 
and  thicker  continually.  I  tried,  at  various  times,  to 
rub  a  peep-hole  through,  as  before ;  but  the  ice  im 
mediately  shot  its  crystallized  tracery  over  it  again ; 
and,  indeed,  there  was  little  or  nothing  to  make  it 
worth  while  to  look  out,  so  bleak  was  the  scene.  Now 
and  then  a  chateau,  too  far  off  for  its  characteristics 
to  be  discerned ;  now  and  then  a  church,  with  a  tall 
gray  tower,  and  a  little  peak  atop ;  here  and  there  a 
village  or  a  town,  which  we  could  not  well  see.  At 
sunset  there  was  just  that  clear,  cold,  wintry  sky 
which  I  remember  so  well  in  America,  but  have  never 
seen  in  England. 

At  five  we  reached  Paris,  and  were  suffered  to  take 
a  carriage  to  the  Hotel  de  Louvre,  without  any  ex 
amination  of  the  little  luggage  we  had  with  us.  Arriv 
ing,  we  took  a  suite  of  apartments,  and  the  waiter  im 
mediately  lighted  a  wax  candle  in  each  separate  room. 

We  might  have  dined  at  the  table  d  'hote,  but  pre 
ferred  the  restaurant  connected  with  and  within  the 
hotel.  All  the  dishes  were  very  delicate,  and  a  vast 
change  from  the  simple  English  system,  with  its 
joints,  shoulders,  beefsteaks,  and  chops ;  but  I  doubt 
whether  English  cookery,  for  the  very  reason  that  it 
is  so  simple,  is  not  better  for  men's  moral  and  spirit 
ual  nature  than  French.  In  the  former  case,  you 
know  that  you  are  gratifying  your  animal  needs  and 
propensities,  and  are  duly  ashamed  of  it ;  but,  in  deal 
ing  with  these  French  delicacies,  you  delude  yourself 
into  the  idea  that  you  are  cultivating  your  taste 
1* 


10  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

while  satisfying  your  appetite.  This  last,  however,  it 
requires  a  good  deal  of  perseverance  to  accomplish. 

In  the  Cathedral  at  Amiens  there  were  printed  lists 
of  acts  of  devotion  posted  on  the  columns,  such  as 
prayers  at  the  shrines  of  certain  saints,  whereby  plen 
ary  indulgences  might  be  gained.  It  is  to  be  observed, 
however,  that  all  these  external  forms  were  necessarily 
accompanied  with  true  penitence  and  religious  devo 
tion. 

Hotel  de  Louvre,  January  8th.  —  It  was  so  fear 
fully  cold  this  morning  that  I  really  felt  little  or  no 

curiosity  to  see  the  city Until  after  one  o'clock, 

therefore,  I  knew  nothing  of  Paris  except  the  lights 
which  I  had  seen  beneath  our  window  the  evening 
before,  far,  far  downward,  in  the  narrow  Rue  St. 
Honore,  and  the  rumble  of  the  wheels,  which  con 
tinued  later  than  I  was  awake  to  hear  it,  and  began 
again  before  dawn.  I  could  see,  too,  tall  houses,  that 
seemed  to  be  occupied  in  every  story,  and  that  had 
windows  on  the  steep  roofs.  One  of  these  houses  is 
six  stories  high.  This  Rue  St.  Honore  is  one  of  the  old 
streets  in  Paris,  and  is  that  in  which  Henry  IV.  was 
assassinated ;  but  it  has  not,  in  this  part  of  it,  the 
aspect  of  antiquity. 

After  one  o'clock  we  all  went  out  and  walked 

along  the  Rue  de  Rivoli We  are  here,  right  in 

the  midst  of  Paris,  and  close  to  whatever  is  best 
known  to  those  who  hear  or  read  about  it,  —  the 
Louvre  being  across  the  street,  the  Palais  Royal  but 
*»•  little  way  off,  the  Tuilcries  joining  to  the  Louvre, 


1&58.]  FRANCE.  11 

the  Place  de  la  Concorde  just  beyond,  verging  on 
which  is  the  Champs  Elysees.  We  looked  about  us 
for  a  suitable  place  to  dine,  and  soon  found  the  Re 
staurant  des  Echelles,  where  we  entered  at  a  venture, 
and  were  courteously  received.  It  has  a  handsomely 
furnished  saloon,  much  set  off  with  gilding  and  mir 
rors;  and  appears  to  be  frequented  by  English  and 
Americans;  its  carte,  a  bound  volume,  being  printed 

in  English  as  well  as  French 

It  was  now  nearly  four  o'clock,  and  too  late  to  visit 
the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  or  to  do  anything  else 
but  walk  a  little  way  along  the  street.  The  splendor 
of  Paris,  so  far  as  I  have  seen,  takes  me  altogether 
by  surprise :  such  stately  edifices,  prolonging  them 
selves  in  unwearying  magnificence  and  beauty,  and, 
ever  and  anon,  a  long  vista  of  a  street,  with  a  column 
rising  at  the  end  of  it,  or  a  triumphal  arch,  wrought 
in  memory  of  some  grand  event.  The  light  stone  or 
stucco,  wholly  untarnished  by  smoke  and  soot,  puts 
London  to  the  blush,  if  a  blush  could  be  seen  on  its 
dingy  face ;  but,  indeed,  London  is  not  to  be  men 
tioned  with,  nor  compared  even  with  Paris.  I  never 
knew  what  a  palace  was  till  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
Louvre  and  the  Tuileries ;  never  had  my  idea  of  a 
city  been  gratified  till  I  trod  those  stately  streets. 
The  life  of  the  scene,  too,  is  infinitely  more  pictu 
resque  than  that  of  London,  with  its  monstrous  throng 
of  grave  faces  and  black  coats;  whereas,  there,  you 
see  soldiers  and  priests,  policemen  in  cocked  hats, 
Zouaves  with  turbans,  long  mantles,  and  bronzed, 
half  Moorish  faces;  and  a  great  many  people  whom 


12  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

you  perceive  to  be  outside  of  your  experience,  and 
know  them  ugly  to  look  at,  and  fancy  them  villa- 
nous.  Truly,  I  have  no  sympathies  towards  the  French 
people ;  their  eyes  do  not  win  me,  nor  do  their  glances 
melt  and  mingle  with  mine.  But  they  do  grand  and 
beautiful  things  in  the  architectural  way;  and  I  am 
grateful  for  it.  The  Place  de  la  Concorde  is  a  most 
splendid  square,  large  enough  for  a  nation  to  erect 
trophies  in  of  all  its  triumphs ;  and  on  one  side  of  it  is 
the  Tuileries,  on  the  opposite  side  the  Champs  Elysees, 
and,  on  a  third,  the  Seine,  adown  which  we  saw  largo 
cakes  of  ice  floating,  beneath  the  arches  of  a  bridge. 
The  Champs  Elysees,  so  far  as  I  saw  it,  had  not  a 
grassy  soil  beneath  its  trees,  but  the  bare  earth,  white 
and  dusty.  The  very  dust,  if  I  saw  nothing  else, 
would  assure  me  that  I  was  out  of  England. 

We  had  time  only  to  take  this  little  walk,  when 
it  began  to  grow  dusk ;  and,  being  so  pitilessly  cold, 
we  hurried  back  to  our  hotel.  Thus  far,  I  think,  what 
I  have  seen  of  Paris  is  wholly  unlike  what  I  expected ; 
but  very  like  an  imaginary  picture  which  I  had  con 
ceived  of  St.  Petersburg,  —  new,  bright,  magnificent, 
and  desperately  cold. 

A  great  part  of  this  architectural  splendor  is  due 
to  the  present  Emperor,  who  has  wrought  a  great 
change  in  the  aspect  of  the  city  within  a  very  few 
years.  A  traveller,  if  ho  looks  at  the  thing  selfishly, 
ought  to  wish  him  a  long  reign  and  arbitrary  power, 
since  he  makes  it  his  policy  to  illustrate  his  capital 
vith  palatial  edifices,  which  are,  however,  better  for  a 
stranger  to  look  at,  than  for  hia  own  people  to  pay  for. 


J858."]  FRANCE.  13 

We  have  spent  to-day  chiefly  in  seeing  some  of 
the  galleries  of  the  Louvre.  I  must  confess  that  the 
vast  and  beautiful  edifice  struck  me  far  more  than  the 
pictures,  sculpture,  and  curiosities  which  it  contains,  — 
the  shell  more  than  the  kernel  inside;  such  noble 
suites  of  rooms  and  halls  were  those  through  which 
we  first  passed,  containing  Egyptian,  and,  farther 
onward,  Greek  arid  Roman  antiquities ;  the  walls 
cased  in  variegated  marbles  ;  the  ceilings  glowing  with 
beautiful  frescos;  the  whole  extended  into  infinite 
vistas  by  mirrors  that  seemed  like  vacancy,  and  multi 
plied  everything  forever.  The  picture-rooms  are  not  so 
brilliant,  and  the  pictures  themselves  did  not  greatly 
win  upon  me  in  this  one  day.  Many  artists  were  em 
ployed  in  copying  them,  especially  in  the  rooms  hung 
with  the  productions  of  French  painters.  Not  a  few 
of  these  copyists  were  females ;  most  of  them  were 
young  men,  picturesquely  mustached  and  bearded ; 
but  some  were  elderly,  who,  it  was  pitiful  to  think, 
had  passed  through  life  without  so  much  success  as 
now  to  paint  pictures  of  their  own. 

From  the  pictures  we  went  into  a  suite  of  rooms 
where  are  preserved  many  relics  of  the  ancient  and 
later  kings  of  France ;  more  relics  of  the  elder  ones, 
indeed,  than  I  supposed  had  remained  extant  through 
the  Revolution.  The  French  seem  to  like  to  keep 
memorials  of  whatever  they  do,  and  of  whatever  their 
forefathers  have  done,  even  if  it  be  ever  so  little  to 
their  credit;  and  perhaps  they  do  not  take  matters 
sufficiently  to  heart  to  detest  anything  that  has  ever 
happened.  What  surprised  me  most  were  the  golden 


14  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858- 

sceptre  and  the  magnificent  sword  and  other  gorgeous 
relics  of  Charlemagne,  —  a  person  whom  I  had  always 
associated  with  a  sheepskin  cloak.  There  were  suits 
of  armor  and  weapons  that  had  been  worn  and 
handled  by  a  great  many  of  the  French  kings  ;  and  a 
religious  book  that  had  belonged  to  St.  Louis;  a 
dressing-glass,  most  richly  set  with  precious  stones, 
which  formerly  stood  on  the  toilet-table  of  Catherine 
di  Medici,  and  in  which  I  saw  my  own  face  where  hers 
had  been.  And  there  were  a  thousand  other  treasures, 
just  as  well  worth  mentioning  as  these.  If  each 
monarch  could  have  been  summoned  from  Hades  to 
claim  his  own  relics,  we  should  have  had  the  halls  full 
of  the  old  Childcrics,  Charleses,  Bourbons  and  Capets, 
Henrys  and  Louises,  snatching  with  ghostly  hands  at 
sceptres,  swords,  armor,  and  mantles;  and  Napoleon 
would  have  seen,  apparently,  almost  everything  that 
personally  belonged  to  him,  —  his  coat,  his  cocked 
hats,  his  camp-desk,  his  field-bed,  his  knives,  forks, 
and  plates,  and  even  a  lock  of  his  hair.  I  must  let  it 
all  go.  These  things  cannot  be  reproduced  by  pen 
and  ink. 

Hotel  de  Louvre,  January  $th.  —  ....  Last 
evening  Mr.  Fezandie  called.  He  spoke  very  freely 
respecting  the  Emperor  and  the  hatred  entertained 
against  him  in  France ;  but  said  that  he  is  more 
powerful,  that  is,  more  firmly  fixed  as  a  ruler,  than 
ever  the  first  Napoleon  was.  We,  who  look  back  upon 
the  first  Napoleon  as  one  of  the  eternal  facts  of  the 
past,  a  great  boulder  in  history,  cannot  well  estimate 


1858.]  FRANCE.  15 

how  momentary  and  unsubstantial  the  great  Captain 
may  have  appeared  to  those  who  beheld  his  rise  out 
of  obscurity.  They  never,  perhaps,  took  the  reality 
of  his  career  fairly  into  their  minds,  before  it  was  over. 
The  present  Emperor,  I  believe,  has  already  been  as 
long  in  possession  of  the  supreme  power  as  his  uncle 
was.  I  should  like  to  see  him,  and  may,  perhaps,  do 
so,  as  he  is  our  neighbor,  across  the  way. 

This  morning  Miss ,  the  celebrated  astronom 
ical  lady,  called.  She  had  brought  a  letter  of  intro 
duction  to  me,  while  consul ;  and  her  purpose  now 
was  to  see  if  we  could  take  her  as  one  of  our  party  to 
Rome,  whither  she  likewise  is  bound.  We  readily 
consented,  for  she  seems  to  be  a  simple,  strong, 
healthy-humored  woman,  who  will  not  fling  herself  as 
a  burden  on  our  shoulders ;  and  my  only  wonder  is 
that  a  person  evidently  so  able  'to  take  care  of  herself 
should  wish  to  have  an  escort. 

We  issued  forth  at  about  eleven,  and  went  down 
the  Rue  St.  Honored,  which  is  narrow,  and  has  houses 
of  five  or  six  stories  on  either  side,  between  which 
run  the  streets  like  a  gully  in  a  rock.  One  face  of 
our  hotel  borders  and  looks  on  this  street.  After  go 
ing  a  good  way,  we  came  to  an  intersection  with  an 
other  street,  the  name  of  which  I  forget ;  but,  at  this 
point,  Ravaillac  sprang  at  the  carriage  of  Henry  IV. 
and  plunged  his  dagger  into  him.  As  we  went  down 
the  Rue  St.  Honore,  it  grew  more  and  more  thronged, 
and  with  a  meaner  class  of  people.  The  houses  still 
were  high,  and  without  the  shabbiness  of  exterior  that 
distinguishes  the  old  part  of  London,  being  of  light- 


— ».~.:.».T  j:;~; 


JIT  i 


JIM'       tiiniL  jat  "Wl*_ 


is?  1. 


_ 


:-::       _1 


18  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

galaxy  of  stars.  In  the  middle  of  the  nave,  moreover, 
there  was  another  galaxy  of  wax  candles  burning 
around  an  immense  pall  of  black  velvet,  embroidered 
with  silver,  which  seemed  to  cover,  not  only  a  coffin, 
but  a  sarcophagus,  or  something  still  more  huge. 
The  organ  was  rumbling  forth  a  deep,  lugubrious  bass, 
accompanied  with  heavy  chanting  of  priests,  out  of 
which  sometimes  rose  the  clear,  young  voices  of  chor 
isters,  like  light  flashing  out  of  the  gloom.  The 
church,  between  the  arches,  along  the  nave,  and 
round  the  altar,  was  hung  with  broad  expanses  of 
black  cloth ;  and  all  the  priests  had  their  sacred  vest 
ments  covered  with  black.  They  looked  exceedingly 
well ;  I  never  saw  anything  half  so  well  got  up  on  the 
stage.  Some  of  these  ecclesiastical  figures  were  very 
stately  and  noble,  and  knelt  and  bowed,  and  bore 
aloft  the  cross,  and  swung  the  censers  in  a  way  that 
I  liked  to  see.  The  ceremonies  of  the  Catholic 
Church  were  a  superb  work  of  art,  or  perhaps  a  true 
growth  of  man's  religious  nature  ;  and  so  long  as  men 
felt  their  original  meaning,  they  must  have  been  full 
of  awe  and  glory.  Being  of  another  parish,  I  looked 
on  coldly,  but  not  irreverently,  and  was  glad  to  see 
the  funeral  service  so  well  performed,  and  very  glad 
when  it  was  over.  What  struck  me  as  singular,  the 
person  who  performed  the  part  usually  performed 
by  a  verger,  keeping  order  among  the  audience,  wore 
a  gold-embroidered  scarf,  a  cocked  hat,  and,  I  believe, 
a  sword,  and  had  the  air  of  a  military  man. 

Before  the  close  of  the  service  a  contribution-box  — 
or,  rather,  a  black  velvet  bag  —  was  handed  about  by 


1858.]  FRANCE.  19 

this  military  verger  ;  and  I  gave  J a  franc  to  put 

in,  though  I  did  not  in  the  least  know  for  what. 

Issuing  from  the  church,  we  inquired  of  two  or 
three  persons  who  was  the  distinguished  defunct  at 
whose  obsequies  we  had  been  assisting,  for  we  had 
some  hope  that  it  might  be  Rachel,  who  died  last 
week,  and  is  still  above  ground.  But  it  proved  to 
be  only  a  Madame  Mcntel,  or  some  such  name,  whom 
nobody  had  ever  before  heard  of.  I  forgot  to  say  that 
her  coffin  was  taken  from  beneath  the  illuminated 
hall,  and  carried  out  of  the  church  before  us. 

When  we  left  the  Madeleine  we  took  our  way  to 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  thence  through  the 
Elysian  Fields  (which,  I  suppose,  are  the  French 
idea  of  heaven)  to  Bonaparte's  triumphal  arch.  The 
Champs  Elysees  may  look  pretty  in  summer ;  though 
I  suspect  they  must  be  somewhat  dry  and  artificial 
at  whatever  season,  —  the  trees  being  slender  and 
scraggy,  and  requiring  to  be  renewed  every  few  years. 
The  soil  is  not  genial  to  them.  The  strangest  pecu 
liarity  of  this  place,  however,  to  eyes  fresh  from  moist 
and  verdant  England,  is,  that  there  is  not  one  blade 
of  grass  in  all  the  Elysian  Fields,  nothing  but  hard 
clay,  now  covered  with  white  dust.  It  gives  the 
whole  scene  the  air  of  being  a  contrivance  of  man, 
in  which  Nature  has  either  not  been  invited  to  take 
any  part,  or  has  declined  to  do  so.  There  wero 
merry-go-rounds,  wooden  horses,  and  other  provis 
ion  for  children's  amusements  among  the  trees ;  and 
booths,  and  tables  of  cakes,  and  candy-women ;  and 
restaurants  on  the  borders  of  the  wood;  but  very 


20  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

few  people  there ;  and  doubtless  we  can  form  no 
idea  of  what  the  scene  might  become  when  alive  with 
French  gayety  and  vivacity. 

As  we  walked  onward  the  Triumphal  Arch  began  to 
loom  up  in  the  distance,  looking  huge  and  massive, 
though  still  a  long  way  off.  It  was  not,  however,  till 
we  stood  almost  beneath  it  that  we  really  felt  the 
grandeur  of  this  great  arch,  including  so  large  a  space 
of  the  blue  sky  in  its  airy  sweep.  At  a  distance  it 
impresses  the  spectator  with  its  solidity;  nearer,  with 
the  lofty  vacancy  beneath  it.  There  is  a  spiral  stair 
case  within  one  of  its  immense  limbs ;  and,  climbing 
steadily  upward,  lighted  by  a  lantern  which  the  door 
keeper's  wife  gave  us,  we  had  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
Paris,  much  obscured  by  smoke  or  mist.  Several 
interminable  avenues  shoot  with  painful  directness 
right  towards  it. 

On  our  way  homeward  we  visited  the  Place  Yen- 
dome,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  tall  column,  sculp 
tured  from  top  to  bottom,  all  over  the  pedestal,  and 
all  over  the  shaft,  and  with  Napoleon  himself  on  the 
summit.  The  shaft  is  wreathed  round  and  roundabout 
with  representations  of  what,  as  far  as  I  could  distin 
guish,  seemed  to  be  the  Emperor's  victories.  It  has 
a  very  rich  effect.  At  the  foot  of  the  column  we  saw 
wreaths  of  artificial  flowers,  suspended  there,  no 
doubt,  by  some  admirer  of  Napoleon,  still  ardent 
enough  to  expend  a  franc  or  two  in  this  way. 

Hotel  de  Louvre,  January  IQtk.  —  We  had  pur 
posed  going  to  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  to-day, 


J858.]  FRANCE.  21 

but  the  weather  and  walking  were  too  unfavorable 
iv  r  a  distant  'expedition ;  so  we  merely  went  across 
tht,  street  to  the  Louvre 

Our  principal  object  this  morning  was  to  see  the 
pencil  drawings  by  eminent  artists.  Of  these  the 
Louvre  has  a  very  rich  collection,  occupying  many 
apartments,  and  comprising  sketches  by  Annibal 
Caracci,  Claude,  Raphael,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Michel 
Angelo,  Rubens,  Rembrandt,  and  almost  all  the  other 
great  masters,  whether  French,  Italian,  Dutch,  or 
whatever  else  ;  the  earliest  drawings  of  their  great 
pictures,  when  they  had  the  glory  of  their  pristine  idea 
directly  before  their  minds'  eye,  —  that  idea  which 
inevitably  became  overlaid  with  their  own  handling  of 
it  in  the  finished  painting.  No  doubt  the  painters 
themselves  had  often  a  happiness  in  these  rude,  off 
hand  sketches,  which  they  never  felt  again  in  the 
same  work,  and  which  resulted  in  disappointment, 
after  they  had  done  their  best.  To  an  artist,  the 
collection  must  be  most  deeply  interesting  :  to  my 
self,  it  was  merely  curious,  and  soon  grew  wearisome. 

In  the  same  suite  of  apartments,  there  is  a  collec 
tion  of  miniatures,  some  of  them  very  exquisite,  and 
absolutely  lifelike,  on  their  small  scale.  I  observed 
two  of  Franklin,  both  good  and  picturesque,  one  of 
them  especially  so,  with  its  cloud-like  white  hair.  I 
do  not  think  we  have  produced  a  man  so  interesting 
to  contemplate,  in  many  points  of  view,  as  he.  Most 
of  our  great  men  are  of  a  character  that  I  find  it 
impossible  to  warm  into  life  by  thought,  or  by  lavish 
ing  any  amount  of  sympathy  upon  them.  Not  so 


22  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Franklin,  who  had  a  great  deal  of  common  and  un 
common  human  nature  in  him. 

Muoti  of  the  time,  while  my  wife  was  looking  at 
the  drawings,  I  sat  observing  the  crowd  of  Sunday 
visitors.  They  were  generally  of  a  lower  class  than 
those  of  week-days ;  private  soldiers  in  a  variety  of 
uniforms,  and,  for  the  most  part,  ugly  little  men,  but 
decorous  and  well  behaved.  I  saw  medals  on  many 
of  their  breasts,  denoting  Crimean  service  ;  some  were 
the  English  medal,  with  Queen  Victoria's  head  upon 
it.  A  blue  coat,  with  red,  baggy  trousers,  was  the 
most  usual  uniform.  Some  had  short-breasted  coats, 
made  in  the  same  style  as  those  of  the  first  Napoleon, 
which  we  had  seen  in  the  preceding  rooms.  The 
policemen,  distributed  pretty  abundantly  about  the 
rooms,  themselves  looked  military,  wearing  cocked 
hats  and  swords.  There  were  many  women  of  the 
middling  classes ;  some,  evidently,  of  the  lowest,  but 
clean  and  decent,  in  colored  gowns  and  caps ;  and 
laboring  men,  citizens,  Sunday  gentlemen,  young 
artists,  too,  no  doubt  looking,  with  educated  eyes,  at 
these  art-treasures,  and  I  think,  as  a  general  thing, 
each  man  was  mated  with  a  woman.  The  soldiers, 
however,  came  in  pairs  or  little  squads,  accompanied 
by  women.  I  did  not  much  like  any  of  the  French 
faces,  and  yet  I  am  not  sure  that  there  is  not  more 
resemblance  between  them  and  the  American  physi 
ognomy,  than  between  the  latter  and  the  English. 
The  women  are  not  pretty,  but  in  all  ranks  above  the 
lowest  they  have  a  trained  expression  that  supplies 
the  place  of  beauty. 


1858.]  FRANCE.  23 

I  was  wearied  to  death  with,  the  drawings,  and 
began  to  have  that  dreary  and  desperate  feeling 
which  has  often  come  upon  me  when  the  sights  last 
longer  than  my  capacity  for  receiving  them.  As  our 
time  in  Paris,  however,  is  brief  and  precious,  we  next 
inquired  our  way  to  the  galleries  of  sculpture,  and 
these  alone  are  of  astounding  extent,  reaching,  I 
should  think,  all  round  one  quadrangle  of  the  Louvre, 
on  the  basement  floor.  Hall  after  hall  opened  inter 
minably  before  us,  and  on  either  side  of  us,  paved 
and  incrusted  with  variegated  and  beautifully  polished 
marble,  relieved  against  which  stand  the  antique 
statues  and  groups,  interspersed  with  great  urns  and 
vases,  sarcophagi,  altars,  tablets,  busts  of  historic 
personages,  and  all  manner  of  shapes  of  marble  which 
consummate  art  has  transmuted  into  precious  stones. 
Not  that  I  really  did  feel  much  impressed  by  any  of 
this  sculpture  then,  nor  saw  more  than  two  or  three 
things  which  I  thought  very  beautiful ;  but  whether 
it  be  good  or  no,  I  suppose  the  world  has  nothing 
better,  unless  it  be  a  few  world-renowned  statues  in 
Italy.  I  was  even  more  struck  by  the  skill  and  in 
genuity  of  the  French  in  arranging  these  sculptural 
remains,  than  by  the  value  of  the  sculptures  them 
selves.  The  galleries,  I  should  judge,  have  been 
recently  prepared,  and  on  a  magnificent  system,  — - 
the  adornments  being  yet  by  no  means  completed,  — 
for  besides  the  floor  and  wall-casings  of  rich,  polished 
marble,  the  vaulted  ceilings  of  some  of  the  apartments 
are  painted  in  fresco,  causing  them  to  glow  as  if  the 
sky  were  opened.  It  must  be  owned,  however,  that 


24  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  statuary,  often  time-worn  and  darkened  from  its 
original  brilliancy  by  weather-stains,  does  not  suit 
well  as  furniture  for  such  splendid  rooms.  When  we 
see  a  perfection  of  modern  finish  around  them,  we 
recognize  that  most  of  these  statues  had  been  thrown 
down  from  their  pedestals,  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and 
have  been  battered  and  externally  degraded ;  and 
though  whatever  spiritual  beauty  they  ever  had  may 
still  remain,  yet  this  is  not  made  more  apparent  by 
the  contrast  betwixt  the  new  gloss  of  modern  uphol 
stery,  and  their  tarnished,  even  if  immortal  grace.  I 
rather  think  the  English  have  given  really  the  more 
hospitable  reception  to  the  maimed  Theseus,  and  his 
broken-nosed,  broken-legged,  headless  companions,  be 
cause  flouting  them  with  no  gorgeous  fittings  up. 

By  this  time  poor  J (who,  with  his  taste  for  art 

yet  undeveloped,  is  the  companion  of  all  our  visits  to 
sculpture  and  picture  galleries)  was  wofully  hungry, 
and  for  bread  we  had  given  him  a  stone,  —  not  one 
stone,  but  a  thousand.  We  returned  to  the  hotel, 
and  it  being  too  damp  and  raw  to  go  to  our  Kestaurant 
des  Echelles,  we  dined  at  the  hotel.  In  my  opinion 
it  would  require  less  time  to  cultivate  our  gastronomic 
taste  than  taste  of  any  other  kind  ;  and,  on  the  whole, 
I  am  not  sure  that  a  man  would  not  be  wise  to  aflbrd 
himself  a  little  discipline  in  this  line.  It  is  certainly 
throwing  away  the  bounties  of  Providence,  to  treat 
them  as  the  English  do,  producing  from  better  mate 
rials  than  the  French  have  to  work  upon  nothing  but 
sirloins,  joints,  joints,  steaks,  steaks,  steaks,  chops, 
chops,  chops,  chops  !  We  had  a  soup  to-day,  in  which 


1858.]  FRANCE.  25 

twenty  kinds  of  vegetables  were  represented,  and 
manifested  each  its  own  aroma  ;  a  fillet  of  stewed  beef, 
and  a  fowl,  in  some  sort  of  delicate  fricassee.  We  had 
a  bottle  of  Chablis,  and  renewed  ourselves,  at  the 
clost;  of  the  banquet,  with  a  plate  of  Chateaubriand 
ice.  It  was  all  very  good,  and  we  respected  ourselves 
far  more  than  if  we  had  eaten  a  quantity  of  red  roast 

beef ;  but  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  we  were  right 

Among  the  relics  of  kings  and  princes,  I  do  not 
know  that  there  was  anything  more  interesting  than  a 
little  brass  cannon,  two  or  three  inches  long,  which  had 
been  a  toy  of  the  unfortunate  Dauphin,  son  of  Louis 
XVI.  There  was  a  map,  —  a  hemisphere  of  the  world, 
—  which  his  father  had  drawn  for  this  poor  boy ;  very 
neatly  done,  too.  The  sword  of  Louis  XVI.,  a  mag 
nificent  rapier,  with  a  beautifully  damasked  blade ; 
and  a  jewelled  scabbard,  but  without  a  hilt,  is  like 
wise  preserved,  as  is  the  hilt  of  Henry  IV.'s  sword. 
But  it  is  useless  to  begin  a  catalogue  of  these  things. 
What  a  collection  it  is,  including  Charlemagne's  sword 
and  sceptre,  and  the  last  Dauphin's  little  toy  cannon, 
and  so  much  between  the  two  ! 

Hotel  de  Louvre,  January  \\th.  —  This  was  another 
chill,  raw  day,  characterized  by  a  spitefulness  of 
atmosphere  which  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have 
experienced  in  my  own  dear  country.  We  meant  to 
ha,ve  visited  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  but  J—  -  and  I 
walked  to  the  Rivolie,  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  to  the  Place  de  Beaujon,  and  'to 
the  residence  of  the  American  minister,  where  I  wished 

VOL.  I.  2 


26  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

to  arrange  about  my  passport.  After  speaking  with 
the  Secretary  of  Legation,  we  were  ushered  into  the 
minister's  private  room,  where  he  received  me  with 

great  kindness.     Mr. is  an  old  gentleman  with  a 

white  head,  and  a  large,  florid  face,  which  has  an  ex 
pression  of  amiability,  not  unmingled  with  a  certain 
dignity.  He  did  not  rise  from  his  arm-chair  to  greet 
me,  —  a  lack  of  ceremony  which  I  imputed  to  the 
gout,  feeling  it  impossible  that  he  should  have  will 
ingly  failed  in  courtesy  to  one  of  his  twenty-five  mil 
lion  sovereigns.  In  response  to  some  remark  of  mine 
about  the  shabby  way  in  which  our  government  treats 
its  officials  pecuniarily,  he  gave  a  detailed  account  of 
his  own  troubles  on  that  score ;  then  expressed  a  hope 
that  I  had  made  a  good  thing  out  of  my  consulate, 
and  inquired  whether  I  had  received  a  hint  to  resign ; 
to  which  I  replied  that,  for  various  reasons,  I  had  re 
signed  of  rny  own  accord,  and  before  Mr.  Buchanan's 
inauguration.  We  agreed,  however,  in  disapproving 
the  system  of  periodical  change  in  our  foreign  officials ; 
and  I  remarked  that  a  consul  or  an  ambassador  ought 
to  be  a  citizen  both  of  his  native^country  and  of  the 
one  in  which  he  resided ;  and  that  his  possibility  of 
beneficent  influence  depended  largely  on  his  being  so. 

Apropos   to  which   Mr.  said  that  he  had  once 

asked  a  diplomatic  friend  of  long  experience,  what  was 
the  first  duty  of  a  minister.  "  To  love  his  own  coun 
try,  and  to  watch  over  its  interests,"  answered  the 

diplomatist.     "  And  his  second  duty  1 "  asked  Mr. . 

"  To  love  and  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  country 
to  which  he  is  accredited,"  said  his  friend.  This  is  a 


1858.]  FRANCE.  2T 

very  Christian  and  sensible  view  of  the  matter ;  but 
it  can  scarcely  have  happened  once  in  our  whole  diplo 
matic  history,  that  a  minister  can  have  had  time  to 
overcome  his  first  rude  and  ignorant  prejudice  against 
the  country  of  his  mission ;  and  if  there  were  any 
suspicion  of  his  having  done  so,  it  would  be  held 
abundantly  sufficient  ground  for  his  recall.  I  like 
Mr. ,  a  good-hearted,  sensible  old  man. 

J and  I  returned  along  the  Champs  Elysees, 

and,  crossing  the  Seine,  kept  on  our  way  by  the  river's 
brink,  looking  at  the  titles  of  books  on  the  long  lines 
of  stalls  that  extend  between  the  bridges.  Novels, 
fairy-tales,  dream  books,  treatises  of  behavior  and  eti 
quette,  collections  of  bon-mots  and  of  songs,  were  in 
terspersed  with  volumes  in  the  old  style  of  calf  and 
gilt  binding,  the  works  of  the  classics  of  French  liter 
ature.  A  good  many  persons,  of  the  poor  classes,  and 
of  those  apparently  well  to  do,  stopped  transitorily  to 
look  at  these  books.  On  the  other  side  of  the  street 
was  a  range  of  tall  edifices  with  shops  beneath,  and 
the  quick  stir  of  French  life  hurrying,  and  babbling, 
and  swarming  along  the  sidewalk.  We  passed  two  or 
three  bridges,  occurring  at  short  intervals,  and  at  last 
we  recrossed  the  Seine  by  a  bridge  which  oversteps 
the  river,  from  a  point  near  the  National  Institute,  and 
reaches  the  other  side,  not  far  from  the  Louvre 

Though  the  day  was  so  disagreeable,  we  thought  it 
best  not  to  lose  the  remainder  of  it,  and  therefore  set 
out  to  visit  the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.  We  took 
a  fiacre  in  the  Place  de  Carousel,  and  drove  to  the 
door.  On  entering,  we  found  the  interior  miserably 


28  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

shut  off  from  view  by  the  stagings*  erected  for  the  pur 
pose  of  repairs.  Penetrating  from  the  nave  towards 
the  chancel,  an  official  personage  signified  to  us  that 
we  must  first  purchase  a  ticket  for  each  grown  person, 
lit  the  price  of  half  a  franc  each.  This  expenditure 
admitted  us  into  the  sacristy,  where  we  were  taken 
in  charge  by  a  guide,  who  came  down  upon  us  with 
an  avalanche  or  cataract  of  French,  descriptive  of  a 
great  many  treasures  reposited  in  this  chapel.  I 
•understood  hardly  more  than  one  word  in  ten,  but 
gathered  doubtfully  that  a  bullet  which  was  shown  us 
was  the  one  that  killed  the  late  Archbishop  of  Paris, 
>DII  the  floor  of  the  Cathedral.  [But  this  was  a  mis 
take.  It  was  the  archbishop  who  was  killed  in  the 
insurrection  of  1848.  Two  joints  of  his  backbone 
were  also  shown.]  Also,  that  some  gorgeously  em 
broidered  vestments,  which  he  drew  forth,  had  been 
used  at  the  coronation  of  Napoleon  I.  There  were  two 
large,  full-length  portraits  hanging  aloft  in  the  sacristy, 
and  a  gold  or  silver  gilt,  or,  at  all  events,  gilt  image 
of  the  Virgin,  as  large  as  life,  standing  on  a  pedestal. 
The  guide  had  much  to  say  about  these,  but,  under 
standing  him  so  imperfectly,  I  have  nothing  to  record. 

The  guide's  supervision  of  us  seemed  not  to  extend 
beyond  this  sacrist}'-,  on  quitting  which  he  gave  us  per 
mission  to  go  where  we  pleased,  only  intimating  a 
hope  that  we  would  not  forget  him;  so  I  gave  him 
half  a  franc,  though  thereby  violating  an  inhibition  on 
the  printed  ticket  of  entrance. 

We  had  been  much  disappointed  at  first  by  the 
apparently  narrow  limits  of  the  interior  of  this  famous 


J858.]  FRANCE.  29 

church ;  but  now,  as  we  made  our  way  round  the 
choir,  gazing  into  chapel  after  chapel,  each  with  its 
painted  window,  its  crucifix,  its  pictures,  its  confes 
sional,  and  afterwards  came  back  into  the  nave,  where 
arch  rises  above  arch  to  the  lofty  roof,  we  came  to 
thj  conclusion  that  it  was  very  sumptuous.  It  is  the 
greatest  of  pities  that  its  grandeur  and  solemnity 
should  just  now  be  so  infinitely  marred  by  the  work 
men's  boards,  timber,  and  ladders  occupying  the 
whole  centre  of  the  edifice,  and  screening  all  its  best 
effects.  It  seems  to  have  been  already  most  richly 
ornamented,  its  roof  being  painted,  and  the  capitals 
of  the  pillars  gilded,  and  their  shafts  illuminated  in 
fresco ;  and  no  doubt  it  will  shine  out  gorgeously 
when  all  the  repairs  and  adornments  shall  be  com 
pleted.  Even  now  it  gave  to  my  actual  sight  what  I 
have  often  tried  to  imagine  in  my  visits  to  the  Eng 
lish  cathedrals,  —  the  pristine  glory  of  those  edifices, 
when  they  stood  glowing  with  gold  and  picture,  fresh 
from  the  architects'  and  adorners'  hands. 

The  interior  loftiness  of  Notre  Dame,  moreover, 
gives  it  a  sublimity  which  would  swallow  up  anything 
that  might  look  gewgawy  in  its  ornamentation,  were 
we  to  consider  it  window  by  window,  or  pillar  by 
pillar.  It  is  an  advantage  of  these  vast  edifices,  rising 
over  us  and  spreading  about  us  in  such  a  firmamental 
way,  that  we  cannot  spoil  them  by  any  pettiness  of 
our  own,  but  that  they  receive  (or  absorb)  our  pet 
tiness  into  their  own  immensity.  Every  little  fan 
tasy  finds  its  place  and  propriety  in  them,  like  a  flower 
on  the  earth's  broad  bosom. 


30  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

When  we  emerged  from  the  Cathedral,  we  found  it 
beginning  to  rain  or  snow,  or  both;  and,  as  we  had 
dismissed  our  fiacre  at  the  door,  and  could  find  no 
other,  we  were  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  We  stood  a 
few  moments  on  the  steps  of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  looking 
up  at  the  front  of  Notre  Dame,  with  its  twin  towers, 
and  its  three  deep-pointed  arches,  piercing  through  a 
great  thickness  of  stone,  and  throwing  a  cavern-like 
gloom  around  these  entrances.  The  front  is  very 
rich.  Though  so  huge,  and  all  of  gray  stone,  it  is 
carved  and  fretted  with  statues  and  innumerable 
devices,  as  cunningly  as  any  ivory  casket  in  which 
relics  are  kept ;  but  its  size  did  not  so  much  impress 
me 

Hotel  de  Louvre,  January  1 2th.  - —  This  has  been 
a  bright  day  as  regards  weather;  but  I  have  done 
little  or  nothing  worth  recording.  After  breakfast,  I 
set  out  in  quest  of  the  consul,  and  found  him  up  a 
court,  at  51  Rue  Cammartin,  in  an  office  rather 
smaller,  I  think,  than  mine  at  Liverpool ;  but,  to  say 
the  truth,  a  little  better  furnished.  I  was  received 
in  the  outer  apartment  by  an  elderly,  brisk-looking 
man,  in  whose  air,  respectful  and  subservient,  and 
yet  with  a  kind  of  authority  in  it,  I  recognized  the 

vice-consul.     He  introduced  me  to  Mr. ,  who  sat 

writing  in  an  inner  room  ;  a  very  gentlemanly,  cour 
teous,  cool  man  of  the  world,  whom  I  should  take  to 
be  an  excellent  person  for  consul  at  Paris.  He  tells 
me  that  he  has  resided  here  some  years,  although  his 
occupancy  of  the  consulate  dates  only  from  November 


1G50.]  FRANCE.  31 

last.  Consulting  him  respecting  my  passport,  he  gave 
me  what  appear  good  reasons  why  I  should  get  all 
the  necessary  vises  here  ;  for  example,  that  the  vise  of 
a  minister  carries  more  weight  than  that  of  a  consul ; 
and  especially  that  an  Austrian  consul  will  never  vise 
a  passport  unless  he  sees  his  minister's  name  upon 

it.*    Mr. has  travelled  much  in  Italy,  and  ought 

to  be  able  to  give  me  sound  advice.  His  opinion  was, 
that  at  this  season  of  the  year  I  had  better  go  by 
steamer  to  Civita  Vecchia,  instead  of  landing  at  Leg 
horn,  and  thence  journeying  to  Rome.  On  this  point 
I  shall  decide  when  the  time  cornes.  As  I  left  the 
office  the  vice-consul  informed  me  that  there  was  a 
charge  of  five  francs  and  some  sous  for  the  consul's 
vise,  a  tax  which  surprised  me,  —  the  whole  business 
of  passports  having  been  taken  from  consuls  before  1 
quitted  office,  and  the  consular  fee  having  been  an' 

nulled  even  earlier.      However,  no  doubt   Mr.  • 

had  a  fair  claim  to  my  five  francs ;  but,  really,  it  is 
not  half  so  pleasant  to  pay  a  consular  fee  as  it  used 
to  be  to  receive  it. 

Afterwards  I  walked  to  Notre  Dame,  the  rich  front 
of  which  I  viewed  with  more  attention  than  yesterday. 
There  are  whole  histories,  carved  in  stone  figures, 
within  the  vaulted  arches  of  the  three  entrances  in 
this  west  front,  and  twelve  apostles  in  a  row  above, 
and  as  much  other  sculpture  as  would  take  a  month 
to  see.  We  then  walked  quite  round  it,  but  I  had  no 
sense  of  immensity  from  it,  not  even  that  of  great 
height,  as  from  many  of  the  cathedrals  in  England. 
It  stands  very  near  the  Seine ;  indeed,  if  I  mistake 


32  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

not,  it  is  on  an  island  formed  by  two  branches  of  the 
river.  Behind  it,  is  what  seems  to  be  a  small  public 
ground  (or  garden,  if  a  space  entirely  denuded  of 
grass  or  other  green  thing,  except  a  few  trees  can  be 
called  so),  with  benches,  and  a  monument  in  the 
midst.  This  quarter  of  the  city  looks  old,  and  ap 
pears  to  be  inhabited  by  poor  people,  and  to  be 
busied  about  small  and  petty  affairs ;  the  most  pic 
turesque  business  that  I  saw  being  that  of  the  old 
woman  who  sells  crucifixes  of  pearl  and  of  wood  at  the 
cathedral  door.  We  bought  two  of  these  yesterday. 

I  must  again  speak  of  the  horrible  muddiness,  not 
only  of  this  part  of  the  city,  but  of  all  Paris,  so  far 
as  I  have  traversed  it  to-day.  My  ways,  since  I  came 
to  Europe,  have  often  lain  through  nastiness,  but  I 
never  before  saw  a  pavement  so  universally  over 
spread  with  mud-padding  as  that  of  Paris.  It  is  diffi 
cult  to  imagine  where  so  much  filth  can  come  from. 

After  dinner  I  walked  through  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries  ;  but  as  dusk  was  coming  on,  and  as  I  was 
afraid  of  being  shut  up  within  the  iron  railing,  I  did 
not  have  time  to  examine  them  particularly.  There 
are  wide,  intersecting  walks,  fountains,  broad  basins, 
and  many  statues ;  but  almost  the  whole  surface  of 
the  gardens  is  barren  earth,  instead  of  the  verdure 
that  would  beautify  an  English  pleasure-ground  of 
this  sort.  In  the  summer  it  has  doubtless  an  agree- 
aole  shade  ;  but  at  this  season  the  naked  branches 
look. meagre,  and  sprout  from  slender  trunks.  Like 
the  trees  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  those,  I  presume,  in 
the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  need  renewing  every  few 


1858.]  FRANCE.  33 

years.  The  same  is  true  of  the  human  race,  —  families 
becoming  extinct  after  a  generation  or  two  of  residence 
in  Paris.  Nothing  really  thrives  here ;  man  and 
vegetables  have  but  an  artificial  life,  like  flowers  stuck 
in  a  little  mould,  but  never  taking  root.  I  am  quite 
tired  of  Paris,  and  long  for  a  home  more  than  ever. 

MARSEILLES. 

Hotel  cFAngleterre,  January  15th'.  —  On  Tuesday 
morning  (12th)  we  took  our  departure  from  tjie  Hotel 
de  Louvre.  It  is  a  most  excellent  and  perfectly  or 
dered  hotel,  and  I  have  not  seen  a  more  magnificent 
hall,  in  any  palace,  than  the  dining-saloou,  with  its 
profuse  gilding,  and  its  ceiling,  painted  in  compart 
ments  ;  so  that  when  the  chandeliers  are  all  alight,  it 
looks  a  fit  place  for  princes  to  banquet  in,  and  not 
very  fit  for  the  few  Americans  whom  I  saw  scattered 
at  its  long  tables. 

By  the  by,  as  we  drove  to  the  railway,  we  passed 
through  the  public  square,  where  the  Bastille  formerly 
stood ;  and  in  the  centre  of  it  now  stands  a  column, 
surmounted  by  a  golden  figure  of  Mercury  (I  think), 
which  seems  to  be  just  on  the  point  of  casting  itself 
from  a  gilt  ball  into  the  air.  This  statue  is  so  buoy 
ant,  that  the  spectator  feels  quite  willing  to  trust  it 
to  the  viewless  element,  being  as  sure  that  it  would 
be  borne  up  as  that  a  bird  would  fly. 

Our  first  day's  journey  was  wholly  without  interest, 
through  a  country  entirely  flat,  and  looking  wretchedly 
brown  and  barren.  There  were  rows  of  trees,  very  slen- 
2*  c 


34  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [lS58. 

der,  very  prim  and  formal ;  there  was  ice  \\rherever 
there  happened  to  be  any  water  to  form  it ;  there  were 
occasional  villages,  compact  little  streets,  or  masses  of 
stone  or  plastered  cottages,  very  dirty  and  with  gable 
ends  and  earthen  roofs ;  and  a  succession  of  this  same 
landscape  was  all  that  we  saw,  whenever  we  rubbed 
away  the  congelation  of  our  breath  from  the  carriage 
windows.  Thus  we  rode  on,  all  day  long,  from  eleven 
o'clock,  with  hardly  a  five  minutes'  stop,  till  long  after 
dark,  when  we  came  to  Dijon,  where  there  was  a  ha]f 
of  twenty-five  minutes  for  dinner.  Then  we  set  forth 
again,  and  rumbled  forward,  through  cold  and  dark 
ness  without,  until  we  reached  Lyons  at  about  ten 
o'clock.  We  left  our  luggage  at  the  railway-station, 
and  took  an  omnibus  for  the  Hotel  de  Provence,  which 
we  chose  at  a  venture,  among  a  score  of  other  hotels. 

As  this  hotel  was  a  little  off  the  direct  route  of  the 
omnibus,  the  driver  set  us  down  at  the  corner  of  a 
street,  and  pointed  to  some  lights,  which  he  said 
designated  the  Hotel  de  Provence  ;  and  thither  we 
proceeded,  all  seven  of  us,  taking  along  a  few  carpet 
bags  and  shawls,  our  equipage  for  the  night.  Tlje 
porter  of  the  hotel  met  us  near  its  doorway,  and  ush 
ered  us  through  an  arch,  into  the  inner  quadrangle,  and 
then  up  some  old  and  worn  steps,  —  very  broad,  and  ap 
pearing  to  be  the  principal  staircase.  At  the  first  land 
ing-place,  an  old  woman  and  a  waiter  or  two  received 
us ;  and  we  went  up  two  or  three  more  nights  of  the 
same  broad  and  worn  stone  staircases.  What  we  could 
see  of  the  house  looked  very  old,  and  had  the  musty 
odor  with  which  I  first  became  acquainted  at  Chester. 


1858.]  FRANCE.  35 

After  ascending  to  the  proper  level,  we  were  con 
ducted  along  a  corridor,  paved  with  octagonal  earthen 
tiles;  on  one  side  were  windows,  looking  into  the 
court-yard,  on  the  other  doors  opening  into  the  sleep 
ing-chambers.  The  corridor  was  of  immense  length, 
and  seemed  still  to  lengthen  itself  before  us,  as  the 
glimmer  of  our  conductor's  candle  went  farther  and 
farther  into  the  obscurity.  Our  own  chamber  was  at 
a  vast  distance  along  this  passage  ;  those  of  the  rest 
of  the  party  were  on  the  hither  side ;  but  all  this  im 
mense  suite  of  rooms  appeared  to  communicate  by 
doors  from  one  to  another,  like  the  chambers  through 
which  the  reader  wanders  at  midnight,  in  Mrs.  Rad- 
cliffe's  romances.  And  they  were  really  splendid 
rooms,  though  of  an  old  fashion,  lofty,  spacious,  with 
floors  of  oak  or  other  wood,  inlaid  in  squares  and 
crosses,  and  waxed  till  they  were  slippery,  but  with 
out  carpets.  Our  own  sleeping-room  had  a  deep  fire 
place,  in  which  we  ordered  a  fire,  and  asked  if  there 
were  not  some  saloon  already  warmed,  where  we  could 
get  a  cup  of  tea. 

Hereupon  the  waiter  led  us  back  along  the  endless 
corridor,  and  down  the  old  stone  staircases,  and  out 
into  the  quadrangle,  and  journeyed  with  us  along  an 
exterior  arcade,  and  finally  threw  open  the  door  of 
the  salle  ct  manger,  which  proved  to  be  a  room  of  lofty 
height,  with  a  vaulted  roof,  a  stone  floor,  and  interior 
spaciousness  sufficient  for  a  baronial  hall,  the  whole 
bearing  the  same  aspect  of  times  gone  by,  that  char 
acterized  the  rest  of  the  house.  There  were  two  or 
three  tables  covered  with  white  cloth,  and  wo  sat 


36  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1S5& 

down  at  one  of  them  and  had  our  tea.  Finally  we 
wended  back  to  our  sleeping-rooms,  —  a  considerable 
journey,  so  endless  seemed  the  ancient  hotel.  I 
should  like  to  know  its  history. 

The  fire  made  our  great  chamber  look  comfortable, 
and  the  fireplace  threw  out  the  heat  better  than  the 
little  square  hole  over  which  we  cowered  in  one 
saloon  at  the  Hotel  de  Louvre 

In  the  morning  we  began  our  preparations  for  start 
ing  at  ten.  Issuing  into  the  corridor,  I  found  a  sol 
dier  of  the  line,  pacing  to  and  fro  there  as  sentinel. 
Another  was  posted  in  another  corridor,  into  which  I 
wandered  by, mistake;  another  stood  in  the  inner 
court-yard,  and  another  at  the  porte-cochere.  They 
were  not  there  the  night  before,  and  I  know  not 
whence  nor  why  they  came,  unless  that  some  officer 
of  rank  may  have  taken  up  his  quarters  at  the  hotel. 
Miss  M says  she  heard  at  Paris,  that  a  consid 
erable  number  of  troops  had  recently  been  drawn 
together  at  Lyons,  in  consequence  of  symptoms  of  dis 
affection  that  have  recently  shown  themselves  here. 

Before  breakfast  I  went  out  to  catch  a  momentary 
glimpse  of  the  city.  The  street  in  which  our  hotel 
stands  is  near  a  large  public  square ;  in  the  centre 
is  a  bronze  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  XIV. ;  and  the 
square  itself  is  called  the  Place  de  Louis  le  Grand. 
I  wonder  where  this  statue  hid  itself  while  the  Revo 
lution  was  raging  in  Lyons,  and  when  the  guillotine, 
perhaps,  stood  on  that  very  spot. 

The  square  was  surrounded  by  stately  buildings, 
but  had  what  seemed  to  be  barracks  for  soldiers, — • 


1858.]  FRANCE.  37 

at  any  rate,  mean  little  huts,  deforming  its  ample 
space ;  and  a  soldier  was  on  guard  before  the  statue 
of  Louis  le  Grand.  It  was  a  cold,  misty  morning, 
and  a  fog  lay  throughout  the  area,  so  that  I  could 
scarcely  see  from  one  side  of  it  to  the  other. 

Returning  towards  our  hotel,  I  saw  that  it  had  an 
immense  front,  along  which  ran  in  gigantic  letters, 
its  title,— 

Il6TEL  DE  PROVENCE  ET  DES  AMBASSADEURS. 

The  excellence  of  the  hotel  lay  rather  in  the  faded 
pomp  of  its  sleeping-rooms,  and  the  vastness  of  its 
.mile  &  manger,  than  in  anything  very  good  to  eat  or 
drink. 

We  left  it,  after  a  poor  breakfast,  and  went  to  the 
railway-station.  Looking  at  the  mountainous  heap 
of  our  luggage  the  night  before,  we  had  missed  a 
great  carpet-bag;  and  wre  now  found  that  Miss 

M 's   trunk   had    been    substituted    for     it,    and, 

there  being  the  proper  number  of  packages  as  regis 
tered,  it  was  impossible  to  convince  the  officials  that 
anything  was  wrong.  We,  of  course,  began  to  gener 
alize  forthwith,  and  pronounce  the  incident  to  be 
characteristic  of  French  morality.  They  love  a  cer 
tain  system  and  external  correctness,  but  do  not 
trouble  themselves  to  be  deeply  in  the  right ;  and 

Miss  M suggested  that  there  used  to  be  parallel 

cases  in  the  French  Revolution,  when,  so  long  as  the 
assigned  number  were  sent  out  of  prison  to  be  guillo 
tined,  the  jailer  did  not  much  care  whether  they  were 


38  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.         [1858. 

the  persons  designated  by  the  tribunal  or  not.  At  all 
events,  we  could  get  no  satisfaction  about  the  carpet> 
bag,  and  shall  very  probably  be  compelled  to  leave 
Marseilles  without  it. 

This  day's  ride  was  through  a  far  more  picturesque 
country  than  that  we  saw  yesterday.  Heights  began 
to  rise  imminent  above  our  way,  with  sometimes  a 
ruined  castle  wall  upon  them ;  on  our  left,  the  rail- 
track  kept  close  to  the  hills ;  on  the  other  side  there 
was  the  level  bottom  of  a  valley,  with  heights  de 
scending  upon  it  a  mile  or  a  few  miles  away.  Far 
ther  off  we  could  see  blue  hills,  shouldering  high 
above  the  intermediate  ones,  and  themselves  worthy 
to  be  called  mountains.  These  hills  arranged  them 
selves  in  beautiful  groups,  affording  openings  between 
them,  and  vistas  of  what  lay  beyond,  and  gorges 
which  I  suppose  held  a  great  deal  of  romantic  scenery. 
By  and  by  a  river  made  its  appearance,  flowing  swiftly 
in  the  same  direction  that  we  were  travelling,  —  a 
beautiful  and  cleanly  river,  with  white  pebbly  shores, 
and  itself  of  a  peculiar  blue.  It  rushed  along  very 
fast,  sometimes  whitening  over  shallow  descents,  and 
even  in  its  calmer  intervals  its  surface  was  all  cov 
ered  with  whirls  and  eddies,  indicating  that  it  dashed 
onward  in  haste.  I  do  not  now  know  the  name  of  this 
river,  but  have  set  it  down  as  the  "  Arrowy  Rhone." 
It  kept  us  company  a  long  while,  and  I  think  we  did 
not  part  with  it  as  long  as  daylight  remained.  I 
have  seldom  seen  hill-scenery  that  struck  me  more 
than  some  that  we  saw  to-day,  and  the  old  feudal 
towers  and  old  villages  at  their  feet;  and  the  old 


1858.]  FEANCE.  39 

churches,  with  spires  shaped  just  like  extinguishers, 
gave  it  an  interest  accumulating  from  many  centuries 
past. 

Still  going  southward,  the  vineyards  began  to  bor 
der  our  track,  together  with  what  I  at  first  took  to  be 
orchards,  but  soon  found  were  plantations  of  olive- 
trees,  which  grow  to  a  much  larger  size  than  I  sup 
posed,  and  look  almost  exactly  like  very  crabbed  and 
eccentric  apple-trees.  Neither  they  nor  the  vineyards 
add  anything  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the  landscape. 

On  the  whole,  I  should  have  been  delighted  with  all 
this  scenery  if  it  had  not  looked  so  bleak,  barren,  brown, 
and  bare  ;  so  like  the  wintry  New  England  before  the 
snow  has  fallen.  It  was  very  cold,  too ;  ice  along  the 
borders  of  streams,  even  among  the  vineyards  and 
olives.  The  houses  are  of  rather  a  different  shape 
here  than  farther  northward,  their  roofs  being  not 
nearly  so  sloping.  They  are  almost  invariably  covered 
with  white  plaster ;  the  farm-houses  have  their  out 
buildings  in  connection  with  the  dwelling,  — -  the  whole 
surrounding  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle. 

We  travelled  far  into  the  night,  swallowed  a  cold 
and  hasty  dinner  at  Avignon,  and  reached  Marseilles 
sorely  wearied,  at  about  eleven  o'clock.  We  took  a 
cab  to  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre  (two  cabs,  to  be  quite 
accurate),  and  find  it  a  very  poor  place. 

To  go  back  a  little,  as  the  sun  went  down,  we 
looked  out  of  the  window  of  our  railway-carriage,  and 
saw  a  sky  that  reminded  us  of  what  we  used  ,to  see 
day  after  day  in  America,  and  what  we  have  not  seen 
since ;  and,  after  sunset,  the  horizon  burned  and 


40  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

glowed  with  rich  crimson  and  orange  lustre,  looking 
at  once  warm  and  cold.  After  it  grew  dark,  the  stars 

brightened,  and  Miss  M from  her  windo\v  pointed 

out  some  of  the  planets  to  the  children,  she  being  as 
familiar  with  them  as  a  gardener  with  his  flowers. 
They  were  as  bright  as  diamonds. 

We  had  a  wretched  breakfast,    and  J and    I 

then  went  to  the  railway-station  to  see  about  our  lug 
gage.  On  our  walk  back  we  went  astray,  passing  by 
a  triumphal  arch,  erected  by  the  Marsellaise,  in  honor 
of  Louis  Napoleon  ;  but  we  inquired  our  way  of  old 
women  and  soldiers,  who  were  very  kind  and  cour 
teous,  —  especially  the  latter,  —  and  were  directed 
aright.  We  came  to  a  large,  oblong,  public  place, 
set  with  trees,  but  devoid  of  grass,  like  all  public 
places  in  France.  In^the  middle  of  it  was  a  bronze 
statue  of  an  ecclesiastical  personage,  stretching  forth 
his  hands  in  the  attitude  of  addressing  the  people  or 
of  throwing  a  benediction  over  them.  It  was  some 
archbishop,  who  had  distinguished  himself  by  his 
humanity  and  devotedness  during  the  plague  of  1 720. 
At  the  moment  of  our  arrival  the  piazza  was  quite 
thronged  with  people,  who  seemed  to  be  talking 
amongst  themselves  with  considerable  earnestness, 
although  without  any  actual  excitement.  They  were 
smoking  cigars  ;  and  we  judged  that  they  were  only 
loitering  here  for  the  sake  of  the  sunshine,  having  no 
fires  at  home,  and  nothing  to  do.  Some  looked  like 
gentlemen,  others  like  peasants ;  most  of  them  I 
should  have  taken  for  the  lazzaroni  of  this  Southern 
cityj  —  men  with  cloth  caps,  like  the  classic  liberty- 


1858.]  FRANCE.  41 

cap,  or  with  wide-awake  hats.  There  were  one  or  two 
women  of  the  lower  classes,  without  bonnets,  the  elder 
ones  with  white  caps,  the  younger  bareheaded.  I 
have  hardly  seen  a  lady  in  Marseilles ;  and  I  suspect, 
it  being  a  commercial  city,  and  dirty  to  the  last  de 
gree,  ill-built,  narrow-streeted,  and  sometimes  pestilen 
tial,  there  are  few  or  no  families  of  gentility  resident 
here. 

Keturning  to  the  hotel,  we  found  the  rest  of  the 
party  ready  to  go  out ;  so  we  all  issued  forth  in  a 
body,  and  inquired  our  way  to  the  telegraph-office,  in 
order  to  send  my  message  about  the  carpet-bag.  In 
a  street  through  which  we  had  to  pass  (and  which 
seemed  to  be  the  Exchange,  or  its  precincts),  there  was 
a  crowd  even  denser,  yes,  much  denser,  than  that 
which  we  saw  in  the  square  of  the  archbishop's 
statue ;  and  each  man  was  talking  to  his  neighbor  in 
a  vivid,  animated  way,  as  if  business  were  very  brisk 
to-day. 

At  the  telegraph-office,  we  discovered  the  cause  that 
had  brought  out  these  many  people.  There  had  been 
attempts  on  the  Emperor's  life,  —  unsuccessful,  as 
they  seem  fated  to  be,  though  some  mischief  was  done 
to  those  near  him.  I  rather  think  the  good  people  of 
Marseilles  were  glad  of  the  attempt,  as  an  item  of  news 
and  gossip,  and  did  not  very  greatly  care  whether  it 
were  successful  or  no.  It  seemed  to  have  roused  their 
vivacity  rather  than  their  interest.  The  only  account 
I  have  seen  of  it  was  in  the  brief  public  despatch  from 
the  Syndic  (or  whatever  he  be)  of  Paris  to  the  chief 
authority  of  Marseilles,  which  was  printed  and  posted 


42  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

in  various  conspicuous  places.  The  only  chance  of 
knowing  the  truth  with  any  fulness  of  detail  would  be 
to  come  across  an  English  paper.  We  have  had  a 
banner  hoisted  half-mast  in  front  of  our  hotel  to-day 
as  a  token,  the  head-waiter  tells  me,  of  sympathy 
and  sorrow  for  the  General  and  other  persons  who 
-were  slain  by  this  treasonable  attempt. 

J and  I  now  wandered  by  ourselves  along  a 

circular  line  of  quays,  having,  on  one  side  of  us,  a 
thick  forest  of  masts,  while,  on  the  other,  was  a  sweep 
of  shops,  book-stalls,  sailors'  restaurants  and  drinking- 
houses,  fruit-sellers,  candy-women,  and  all  manner  of 
open-air  dealers  and  pedlers ;  little  children  playing, 
and  jumping  the  rope,  and  such  a  babble  and  bustle 
as  I  never  saw  or  heard  before ;  the  sun  lying  along 
the  whole  sweep,  very  hot,  and  evidently  very  grate 
ful  to  those  who  basked  in  it.  Whenever  I  passed 
into  the  shade,  immediately  from  too  warm  I  became 
too  cold.  The  sunshine  was  like  hot  air ;  the  shade, 
like  the  touch  of  cold  steel,  —  sharp,  hard,  yet  exhil 
arating.  From  the  broad  street  of  the  quays,  narrow, 
thread-like  lanes  pierced  up  between  the  edifices,  call 
ing  themselves  streets,  yet  so  narrow,  that  a  person  in 
the  middle  could  almost  touch  the  houses  on  either 
hand.  They  ascended  steeply,  bordered  on  each  side 
by  long,  contiguous  walls  of  high  houses,  and  from  the 
time  of  their  first  being  built,  could  never  have  had 
a  gleam  of  sunshine  in  them,  —  always  in  shadow, 
always  unutterably  nasty,  and  often  pestiferous.  The 
nastiness  which  I  saw  in  Marseilles  exceeds  my  here 
tofore  experience.  There  is  dirt  in  the  hotel,  and 


3858.]  THE  MEDITERRANEAN  SEA.  43 

everywhere  else  ;  and  it  evidently  troubles  nobody, 
—  no  more  than  if  all  the  people  were  pigs  in  a 

pigsty 

Passing   by  all  this  sweep  of  quays,  J and  I 

ascended  to  an  elevated  walk,  overlooking  the  harbor, 
and  far  beyond  it ;  for  here  we  had  our  first  view  of 
the  Mediterranean,  blue  as  heaven,  and  bright  with 
sunshine.  It  was  a  bay,  widening  forth  into  the  open 
deep,  and  bordered  with  height,  and  bold,  picturesque 
headlands,  some  of  which  had  either  fortresses  or 
convents  on  them.  Several  boats  and  one  brig  were 
under  sail,  making  their  way  towards  the  port.  I 
have  never  seen  a  finer  sea-view.  Behind  the  town, 
there  seemed  to  be  a  mountainous  landscape,  imper 
fectly  visible,  in  consequence  of  the  intervening  edi 
fices. 

THE  MEDITERRANEAN  SEA. 

Steamer  "  Calabrese"  January  1 7tk.  —  If  I  had 
remained  at  Marseilles,  I  might  have  found  many 
peculiarities  and  characteristics  of  taat  Southern  city 
to  notice  ;  but  I  fear  that  these  will  not  be  recorded 
if  I  leave  them  till  I  touch  the  soil  of  Italy.  Indeed, 
I  doubt  whether  there  be  anything  really  worth 
recording  in  the  little  distinctions  between  one  nation 
and  another  ;  at  any  rate,  after  the  first  novelty  is 
over,  new  things  seem  equally  commonplace  with  the 
old.  There  is  but  one  little  interval  when  the  mind 
is  in  such  a  state  that  it  can  catch  the  fleeting  aroma 
of  a  new  scene.  And  it  is  always  so  much  pleasanter 
to  enjoy  this  delicious  newness  than  to  attempt  arrest- 


44  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ing  it,  that  it  requires  great  force  of  will  to  insist  with 
one's  self  upon  sitting  down  to  write.  I  can  do  nothing 
with  Marseilles,  especially  here  on  the  Mediterranean, 
long  after  nightfall,  and  when  the  steamer  is  pitch 
ing  in  a  pretty  lively  way. 

(Later.)  —  I    walked    out    with   J yesterday 

morning,  and  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
whence  we  could  see  the  bold  and  picturesque  heights 
that  surround  Marseilles  as  with  a  semicircular  wall. 
They  rise  into  peaks,  and  the  town,  being  on  their 
lower  slope,  descends  from  them  towards  the  sea  with 
a  gradual  sweep.  Adowii  the  streets  that  descend 
these  declivities  come  little  rivulets,  running  along 
over  the  pavement,  close  to  the  sidewalks,  as  over  a 
pebbly  bed ;  and  though  they  look  vastly  like  kennels, 
I  saw  women  washing  linen  in  these  streams,  and  oth 
ers  dipping  up  the  water  for  household  purposes. 
The  women  appear  very  much  in  public  at  Marseilles. 
In  the  squares  and  places  you  see  half  a  dozen  of  them 
together,  sitting  in  a  social  circle  on  the  bottoms  of 
upturned  baskets,  knitting,  talking,  and  enjoying  the 
public  sunshine,  as  if  it  were  their  own  household  fire. 
Not  one  in  a  thousand  of  them,  probably,  ever  has  a 
household  fire  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  themselves 
warm,  but  only  to  do  their  little  cookery  ;  and  when 
there  is  sunshine  they  take  advantage  of  it,  and  in  the 
short  season  of  rain  and  frost  they  shrug  their  shoul 
ders,  put  on  what  warm  garments  they  have,  and  get 
through  the  winter  somewhat  as  grasshoppers  and 
butterflies  do,  —  being  summer  insects  like  them. 
This  certainly  is  a  very  keen  and  cutting  air,  sharp 


J8f»8.]  THE  MEDITERRANEAN  SEA  45 

as  a  razor,  and  I  saw  ice  along  the  borders  of  the 
little  rivulets  almost  at  noonday.  To  be  sure,  it  is 
mid-winter,  and  yet  in  the  sunshine  I  found  myself 
uncomfortably  warm,  but  in  the  shade  the  air  was 
like  the  touch  of  death  itself.  I  do  not  like  the  cli 
mate. 

There  are  a  great  number  of  public  places  in  Mar 
seilles,  several  of  which  are  adorned  with  statues  or 
fountains,  or  triumphal  arches  or  columns,  and  set 
out  with  trees,  and  otherwise  furnished  as  a  kind  of 
drawing-rooms,  where  the  populace  may  meet  together 
and  gossip.  I  never  before  heard  from  human  lips 
anything  like  this  bustle  and  babble,  this  thousand 
fold  talk  which  you  hear  all  round  about  you  in  the 
crowd  of  a  public  square ;  so  entirely  different  is  it 
from  the  dulness  of  a  crowd  in  England,  where,  as  a 
rule,  everybody  is  silent,  and  hardly  half  a  dozen  mon 
osyllables  will  come  from  the  lips  of  a  thousand  people. 
In  Marseilles,  on  the  contrary,  a  stream  of  unbroken 
talk  seems  to  bubble  from  the  lips  of  every  individual. 
A  great  many  interesting  scenes  take  place  in  these 
squares.  From  the  window  of  our  hotel  (which  looked 
into  the  Place  Royal)  I  saw  a  juggler  displaying  his 
art  to  a  crowd,  who  stood  in  a  regular  square  about 
him,  none  pretending  to  press  nearer  than  the  pre 
scribed  limit.  While  the  juggler  wrought  his  miracles 
his  wife  supplied  him  with  his  magic  materials  out  of 
a  box ;  and  when  the  exhibition  was  over  she  packed 
up  the  white  cloth  with  which  his  table  was  covered, 
together  with  cups,  cards,  balls,  and  whatever  else, 
and  they  took  their  departure. 


4G  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

I  have  been  struck  with  the  idle  curiosity,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  the 
populace  of  Marseilles,  and  I  meant  to  exemplify  it  by 

recording  how  Miss  S and  I  attracted  their  notice, 

and  became  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  at  least  fifty  of 
them  while  doing  no  more  remarkable  thing  than 
settling  with  a  cab-driver.  But  really  this  pitch  and 
swell  is  getting  too  bad,  and  I  shall  go  to  bed,  as  the 
best  chance  of  keeping  myself  in  an  equable  state. 

ROME. 

37  Palazzo  Larazani,  Via  PoHa,  Pinciana,  Janu 
ary  2±tb.  —  We  left  Marseilles  in  the  Neapolitan 
steamer  "  Calabresc/'  as  noticed  above,  a  week  ago  this 
morning.  There  was  no  fault  to  be  found  with  the 
steamer,  which  was  very  clean  and  comfortable,  con 
trary  to  what  we  had  understood  beforehand ;  except 
for  the  coolness  of  the  air  (and  I  know  not  that  this 
was  greater  than  that  of  the  Atlantic  in  July),  our 
voyage  would  have  been  very  pleasant ;  but  for  myself, 
I  enjoyed  nothing,  having  a  cold  upon  me,  or  a  low 
fever,  or  something  else  that  took  the  light  and  warmth 
out  of  everything. 

I  went  to  bed  immediately  after  my  last  record,  and 
was  rocked  to  sleep  pleasantly  enough  by  the  billows 
of  the  Mediterranean ;  and,  coming  on  deck  about 
sunrise  next  morning,  found  the  steamer  approaching 
Genoa.  We  saw  the  city,  lying  at  the  foot  of  a  range 
of  hills,  and  stretching  a  little  way  up  their  slopes, 
the  hills  sweeping  round  it  in  the  segment  of  a  circle, 


1858.]  ITALY.  47 

and  looking  like  an  island  rising  abruptly  out  of  the 
sea  ;  for  110  connection  with  the  mainland  was  visible 
on  either  [side.  There  was  snow  scattered  on  their 
summits  and  streaking  their  sides  a  good  way  down. 
They  looked  bold,  and  barren,  and  brown,  except  where 
the  snow  whitened  them.  The  city  did  not  impress 
me  with  much  expectation  of  size  or  splendor.  Short 
ly  after  coming  into  the  port  our  whole  party  landed, 
and  we  found  ourselves  at  once  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd 
of  cab-drivers,  hotel-runners,  and  commissionaires,  who 
assaulted  us  with  a  volley  of  French,  Italian,  and 
broken  English,  which  beat  pitilessly  about  our  ears ; 
for  really  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  dictionaries  in  the 
world  had  been  torn  to  pieces,  and  blown  around  us 
by  a  hurricane.  Such  a  pother !  We  took  a  commis 
sionaire,  a  respectable-looking  man,  in  a  cloak,  who 
said  his  name  was  Salvator  Rosa  ;  and  he  engaged  to 
show  us  whatever  was  interesting  in  Genoa. 

In  the  first  place,  he  took  us  through  narrow  streets 
to  an  old  church,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten, 
and,  indeed,  its  peculiar  features ;  but  I  know  that  I 
found  it  pre-eminently  magnificent,  —  its  whole  interi 
or  being  incased,  in  polished  marble,  of  various  kinds 
and  colors,  its  ceiling  painted,  and  its  chapels  adorned 
with  pictures.  However,  this  church  was  dazzled  out 
of  sight  by  the  Cathedral  of  San  Lorenzo,  to  which  we 
were  afterwards  conducted,  whose  exterior  front  is 
covered  with  alternate  slabs  of  black  and  white  mar 
ble,  which  were  brought,  either  in  whole  or  in  part, 
from  Jerusalem.  Within,  there  was  a  prodigious  rich 
ness  of  precious  marbles,  and  a  pillar,  if  I  mistake  not, 


48  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS,        [1858. 

from  Solomon's  Temple ;  and  a  picture  of  the  Virgin 
by  §t.  Luke ;  and  others  (rather  more  intrinsically 
valuable,  I  imagine),  by  old  masters,  set  in  superb 
marble  frames,  within  the  arches  of  the  chapels.  I 
used  to  try  to  imagine  how  the  English  cathedrals 
must  have  looked  in  their  primeval  glory,  before  the 
Reformation,  and  before  the  whitewash  of  Cromwell's 
time  had  overlaid  their  marble  pillars ;  but  I  never 
imagined  anything  at  all  approaching  what  my  eyes 
now  beheld  :  this  sheen  of  polished  and  variegated 
marble  covering  every  inch  of  its  walls ;  this  glow  of 
brilliant  frescos  all  over  the  roof,  and  up  within  the 
domes ;  these  beautiful  pictures  by  great  masters, 
painted  for  the  places  which  they  now  occupied,  and 
making  an  actual  portion  of  the  edifice ;  this  wealth 
of  silver,  gold,  and  gems,  that  adorned  the  shrines  of 
the  saints,  before  which  wax  candles  burned,  and  were 
kept  burning,  I  suppose,  from  year's  end  to  year's 
end  ;  in  short,  there  is  no  imagining  nor  remembering 
a  hundredth  part  of  the  rich  details.  And  even  the 
Cathedral  (though  I  give  it  up  as  indescribable)  was 
nothing  at  all  in  comparison  with  a  church  to  which 
the  commissionaire  afterwards  led  us ;  a  church  that 
had  been  built  four  or  five  hundred  years  ago,  by  a 
pirate,  in  expiation  of  his  sins,  and  out  of  the  profit  of 
his  rapine.  This  last  edifice,  in  its  interior,  absolutely 
shone  with  burnished  gold,  and  glowed  with  pictures ; 
its  walls  were  a  quarry  of  precious  stones,  so  valuable 
were  the  marbles  out  of  which  they  were  wrought ;  its 
columns  and  pillars  were  of  inconceivable  costliness  ; 
its  pavement  was  a  mosaic  of  wonderful  beauty,  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  49 

there  vere  four  twisted  pillars  made  out  of  stalactites. 
Perhaps  the  best  way  to  form  some  dim  conception  of 
it  is  to  fancy  a  little  casket,  inlaid  inside  with  precious 
stones,  so  that  there  shall  not  a  hair's-breadth  be  left 
unprecious-stoned,  and  then  to  conceive  this  little  bit 
of  a  casket  increased  to  the  magnitude  of  a  great 
church,  without  losing  anything  of  the  excessive  glory 
that  was  compassed  into  its  original  small  compass, 
but  all  its  pretty  lustre  made  sublime  by  the  conse 
quent  immensity.  At  any  rate,  nobody  who  has  not 
seen  a  church  like  this  can  imagine  what  a  gorgeous 
religion  it  was  that  reared  it. 

In  the  Cathedral,  and  in  all  the  churches,  we  saw 
priests  and  many  persons  kneeling  at  their  devotions  ; 
and  our  Salvator  Rosa,  whenever  we  passed  a  chapel 
or  shrine,  failed  not  to  touch  the  pavement  with  one 
knee,  crossing  himself  the  while  ;  and  once,  when  a 
priest  was  going  through  some  form  of  devotion,  he 
stopped  a  few  moments  to  share  in  it. 

He  conducted  us,  too,  to  the  BalLy  Palace,  the 
stateliest  and  most  sumptuous  residence,  but  not  more 
so  than  another  which  he  afterwards  showed  us,  nor 
perhaps  than  many  others  which  exist  in  Genoa,  THE 
SUPERB.  The  painted  ceilings  in  these  palaces  are 
a  glorious  adornment ;  the  walls  of  the  saloons,  iir- 
crusted  with  various-colored  marbles,  give  an  idea  of 
splendor  which  I  never  gained  from  anything  else. 
The  floors,  laid  in  mosaic,  seem  too  precious  to  tread 
upon.  In  the  royal  palacej  many  of  the  floors  were 
of  various  woods,  inlaid  by  an  English  artist,  and  they 
looked  like  a  magnification  of  some  exquisite  piece  of 

VOL.  I.  9  D 


50  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Tunbridge  ware ;  but,  in  all  respects,  this  palace  was 
inferior  to  others  which  we  saw.  I  say  nothing  of  the 
immense  pictorial  treasures  which  hung  upon  the 
walls  of  all  the  rooms  through  which  we  passed ;  for 
I  soon  grew  so  weary  of  admirable  things,  that  I 
could  neither  enjoy  nor  understand  them.  My  recep 
tive  faculty  is  very  limited,  and  when  the  utmost  of 
its  small  capacity  is  full,  I  become  perfectly  miserable, 
and  the  more  so  the  better  worth  seeing  are  the 
things  I  am  forced  to  reject.  I  do  not  know  a  greater 
misery ;  to  see  sights,  after  such  repletion,  is  to  the  mind 
what  it  would  be  to  the  body  to  have  dainties  forced 
down  the  throat  long  after  the  appetite  was  satiated. 

All  this  while,  whenever  we  emerged  into  the  vault- 
like  streets,  we  were  wretchedly  cold.  The  commis 
sionaire  took  us  to  a  sort  of  pleasure-garden,  occupying 
the  ascent  of  a  hill,  and  presenting  seven  different 
views  of  the  city,  from  as  many  stations.  One  of  the 
objects  pointed  out  to  us  was  a  large  yellow  house,  on 
a  hillside,  in  the  outskirts  of  Genoa,  which  was 
formerly  inhabited  for  six  months  by  Charles  Dickens. 
Looking  down  from  the  elevated  part  of  the  pleasure- 
gardens,  we  saw  orange-trees  beneath  us,  with  the 
golden  fruit  hanging  upon  them,  though  their  trunks 
were  muffled  in  straw ;  and,  still  lower  down,  there 
was  ice  and  snow. 

Gladly  (so  far  as  I  myself  was  concerned)  we  dis 
missed  the  commissionaire,  after  he  had  brought  us 
to  the  hotel  of  the  Cross  of  Malta,  where  we  dined ; 
needlessly,  as  it  proved,  for  another  dinner  awaited  us, 
after  our  return  on  board  the  boat. 


1858.]  ITALY.  51 

We  set  sail  for  Leghorn  before  dark,  and  I  retired 
early,  feeling  still  more  ill  from  my  cold  than  tho 
night  before.  The  next  morning  WQ  were  in  tho 
crowded  port  of  Leghorn.  We  all  went  ashore,  with 
some  idea  of  taking  the  rail  for  Pisa,  which  is  within 
an  hour's  distance,  and  might  have  been  seen  in 
time  for  our  departure  with  the  steamer.  But  a 
necessary  visit  to  a  banker's,  and  afterwards  some 
unnecessary  formalities  about  our  passports,  kept  us 
wandering  through  the  streets  nearly  all  day  ;  and  we 
saw  nothing  in  the  slightest  degree  interesting,  except 
the  tomb  of  Smollett,  in  the  burial-place  attached  to 
the  English  Chapel.  It  is  surrounded  by  an  iron 
railing,  and  marked  by  a  slender  obelisk  of  white 
marble,  the  pattern  of  which  is  many  times  repeated 
over  surrounding  graves. 

We  went  into  a  Jewish  synagogue,  —  the  interior 
cased  in  marbles,  and  surrounded  with  galleries, 
resting  upon  arches  above  arches.  There  were  lights 
burning  at  the  altar,  and  it  looked  very  like  a 
Christian  church ;  but  it  was  dirty,  and  had  an  odor 
not  of  sanctity. 

In  Leghorn,  as  everywhere  else,  we  were  chilled  to 
the  heart,  except  when  the  sunshine  fell  directly  upon 
us ;  and  we  returned  to  the  steamer  with  a  feeling  as 
if  we  were  getting  back  to  our  home ;  for  this  life  of 
wandering  makes  a  three  days'  residence  in  one  place 
seem  like  home. 

We  found  several  new  passengers  on  board,,  and 
among  others  a  monk,  in  a  long  brown  frock  of 
woollen  cloth,  with  an  immense  cape,  and  a'  little 


52  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185& 

black  covering  over  his  tonsure.  He  was  a  tall  figuref 
with  a  gray  beard,  and  might  have  walked,  just  as  he 
stood,  out  of  a  picture  by  one  of  the  old  masters. 
This  holy  person  addressed  me  very  affably  in  Italian ; 
but  we  found  it  impossible  to  hold  much  conversation. 

The  evening  was  beautiful,  with  a  bright  young 
moonlight,  not  yet  sufficiently  powerful  to  overwhelm 

the  stars,  and  as  we  walked  the  deck,  Miss  M 

showed  the  children  the  constellations,  and  told  their 

names.  J made  a  slight  mistake  as  to  one  of 

them,  pointing  it  out  to  me  as  "  O'Brien's  belt !  " 

Elba  was  presently  in  view,  and  we  might  have 
seen  many  other  interesting  points,  had  it  not  been 
for  our  steamer's  practice  of  resting  by  day,  and 
only  pursuing  its  voyage  by  night.  The  next  morning 
we  found  ourselves  in  the  harbor  of  Civita  Vecchia, 
and,  going  ashore  with  our  luggage,  went  through  a 
blind  turmoil  with  custom-house  officers,  inspectors  of 
passports,  soldiers,  and  vetturino  people.  My  wife 
and  I  strayed  a  little  through  Civita  Vecchia,  and 
found  its  streets  narrow,  like  clefts  in  a  rock  (which 
seems  to  be  the  fashion  of  Italian  towns),  and  smelling 
nastily.  I  had  made  a  bargain  with  a  vetturino  to 
send  us  to  Rome  in  a  carriage,  with  four  horses,  in 
eight  hours  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  custom-house  and 
passport  people  would  let  us,  we  started,  lumbering 
slowly  along  with  our  mountain  of  luggage.  We  had 
heard  rumors  of  robberies  lately  committed  on  this 
route  ;  especially  of  a  Nova  Scotia  bishop,  who  was 
detained  on  the  road  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  utterly 
pillaged ;  and  certainly  there  was  not  a  single  mile  of 


1658.]  ITALY.  53 

the  dreary  and  desolate  country  over  which  we  passed, 
where  we  might  not  have  been  robbed  and  murdered 
with  impunity.  Now  and  then,  at  long  distances,  we 
came  to  a  structure  that  was  either  a  prison,  a  tavern, 
or  a  barn,  but  did  not  look  very  much  like  either, 
being  strongly  built  of  stone,  with  iron-grated  windows, 
and  of  ancient  and  rusty  aspect.  We  kept  along  by 
the  sea-shore  a  great  part  of  the  way,  and  stopped  to 
feed  our  horses  at  a  village,  the  wretched  street  of 
which  stands  close  along  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean, 
its  loose,  dark  sand  being  made  nasty  by  the  vicinity. 
The  vetturino  cheated  us,  one  of  the  horses  giving  out, 
as  he  must  have  known  it  would  do,  half-way  on  our 
journey  ;  and  we  staggered  on  through  cold  and  dark 
ness,  and  peril,  too,  if  the  banditti  were  not  a  myth,  — 
reaching  Rome  not  much  before  midnight.  I  perpe 
trated  unheard-of  briberies  on  the  custom-house  officers 
at  the  gates,  and  was  permitted  to  pass  through  and  es 
tablish  myself  at  Spill  man's  Hotel,  the  only  one  where 
we  could  gain  admittance,  and  where  we  have  been 
half  frozen,  and  have  continued  so  ever  since. 
And  this  is  sunny  Italy,  and  genial  Rome  ! 

Palazzo  Larazam,  Via  Porto,  Pmciani,  February 
3d.  —  We  have  been  in  Rome  a  fortnight  to-day,  or 
rather  at  eleven  o'clock  to-night ;  and  I  have  seldom 
or  never  spent  so  wretched  a  time  anywhere.  Our 
impressions  were  very  unfortunate,  arriving  at  mid 
night,  half  frozen  in  the  wintry  rain,  and  being  re 
ceived  into  a  cold  and  cheerless  hotel,  where  we 
shivered  during  two  or  three  days  ;  meanwhile  seeking 


54  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

lodgings  among  the  sunless,  dreary  alleys  which  are 
called  streets  in  Rome.  One  cold,  bright  day  after 
another  has  pierced  rue  to  the  heart,  and  cut  me  in 
twain  as  with  a  sword,  keen  and  sharp,  and  poisoned 
at  point  and  edge.  I  did  not  think  that  cold  weather 
could  have  made  me  so  very  miserable.  Having 
caught  a  feverish  influenza,  I  was  really  glad  of  being 
muffled  up  comfortably  in  the  fever  heat.  The  atmos 
phere  certainly  has  a  peculiar  quality  of  malignity. 
After  a  day  or  two  we  settled  ourselves  in  a  suite  of 
ten  rooms,  comprehending  one  flat,  or  what  is  called 
the  second  piano  of  this  house.  The  rooms,  thus  far, 
have  been  very  uncomfortable,  it  being  impossible  to 
warm  them  by  means  of  the  deep,  old-fashioned,  in 
artificial  fireplaces,  unless  we  had  the  great  logs  of  a 
New  England  forest  to  burn  in  them  ;  so  I  have  sat 
in  my  corner  by  the  fireside  with  more  clothes  on 
than  I  ever  wore  before,  and  my  thickest  great-coat 
over  all.  In  the  middle  of  the  day  I  generally  ven 
ture  out  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  have  only  once  been 
warm  enough  even  in  the  sunshine,  and  out  of  the 
sun  never  at  any  time.  I  understand  now  the  force 
of  that  story  of  Diogenes  when  he  asked  the  Con 
queror,  as  the  only  favor  he  could  do  him,  to  stand 
out  of  his  sunshine,  there  being  such  a  difference 
in  these  Southern  climes  of  Europe  between  sun  and 
shade.  If  my  wits  had  not  been  too  much  congealed, 
and  my  fingers  too  numb,  I  should  like  to  have  kept 
a  minute  journal  of  my  feelings  and  impressions 
during  the  past  fortnight.  It  would  have  shown 
modern  Rome  in  an  aspect  in  which  it  has  never  yet 


1858.]  ITALY.  55 

been  depicted.  But  I  have  now  grown  somewhat  ac- 
cliinated,  and  the  first  freshness  of  my  discomfort  has 
worn  off,  so  that  I  shall  never  be  able  to  express  how 
I  dislike  the  place,  and  how  wretched  I  have  been  in 
it  •  and  soon,  I  suppose,  warmer  weather  will  come, 
and  perhaps  reconcile  me  to  Rome  against  my  will. 
Cold,  narrow  lanes,  between  tall,  ugly,  mean-looking 
whitewashed  houses,  sour  bread,  pavements  most  un 
comfortable  to  the  feet,  enormous  prices  for  poor 
living ;  beggars,  pickpockets,  ancient  temples  and 
broken  monuments,  and  clothes  hanging  to  dry  about 
them ;  French  soldiers,  monks,  and  priests  of  every 
degree ;  a  shabby  population,  smoking  bad  cigars,  — 
these  would  have  been  some  of  the  points  of  my 
description.  Of  course  there  are  better  and  truer 
things  to  be  said 

It  would  be  idle  for  me  to  attempt  any  sketches  of 
these  famous  sites  and  edifices,  —  St.  Peter's,  for  ex 
ample,  —  which  have  been  described  by  a  thousand 
people,  though  none  of  them  have  ever  given  me  an 
idea  of  what  sort  of  place  Home  is 

The  Coliseum  was  very  much  what  I  had  precon 
ceived  it,  though  I  was  not  prepared  to  find  it  turned 
into  a  sort  of  Christian  church,  with  a  pulpit  on  the 

verge  of  the  open  space The  French  soldiers, 

who  keep  guard  within  it,  as  in  other  public  places  in 
Rome,  have  an  excellent  opportunity  to  secure  the 
welfare  of  their  souls. 

February  1th.  —  I  cannot  get  fairly  into  the  current 
of  my  journal  since  we  arrived,  and  already  I  per 
ceive  that  the  nice  peculiarities  of  Roman  life  are 


56  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

passing  from  my  notice  before  I  have  recorded  them. 
It  is  a  very  great  pity.  During  the  past  week  I  have 
plodded  daily,  for  an  hour  or  two,  through  the 
narrow,  stony  streets,  that  look  worse  than  the  worst 
backside  lanes  of  any  other  city  ;  indescribably  ugly 
and  disagreeable  they  are,  ....  without  sidewalks, 
but  provided  with  a  line  of  larger  square  stones,  set 
crosswise  to  each  other,  along  which  there  is  some 
what  less  uneasy  walking Ever  and  anon, 

even  in  the  meanest  streets,  —  though,  generally  speak 
ing,  one  can  hardly  be  called  meaner  than  another,  — 
we  pass  a  palace,  extending  far  along  the  narrow  way 
on  a  line  with  the  other  houses,  but  distinguished  by 
its  architectural  windows,  iron-barred  on  the  base 
ment  story,  and  by  its  portal  arch,  through  which  we 
have  glimpses,  sometimes  of  a  dirty  court-yard,  or 
perhaps  of  a  clean,  ornamented  one,  with  trees,  a 
colonnade,  a  fountain,  and  a  statue  in  the  vista ; 
though,  more  likely,  it  resembles  the  entrance  to 
a  stable,  and  may,  perhaps,  really  be  one.  The 
lower  regions  of  palaces  come  to  strange  uses  in 

Rome In   the    basement    story    of  the    Bar- 

bcrini  Palace  a  regiment  of  French  soldiers  (or  sol 
diers  of  some  kind  *)  seems  to  be  quartered,  while  no 
doubt  princes  have  magnificent  domiciles  above.  Be 
it  palace  or  whatever  other  dwelling,  the  inmates 
climb  through  rubbish  often  to  the  comforts,  such  as 
they  may  be,  that  await  them  above.  I  vainly  try  to 
get  down  upon  paper  the  dreariness,  the  ugliness, 

*  We  find  them  to  be  retainers  of  the  Barbcriai  family,  not 
French. 


1858.]  ITALY.  57 

shabbiness,  un-home-likeness  of  a  Roman  street.  It  is 
also  to  be  said  that  you  cannot  go  far  in  any  direction 
without  coming  to  a  piazza,  which  is  sometimes  little 
more  than  a  widening  and  enlarging  of  the  dingy 
street,  with  the  lofty  fagade  of  a  church  or  basilica 
on  one  side,  and  a  fountain  in  the  centre,  where  the 
water  squirts  out  of  some  fantastic  piece  of  sculpture 
into  a  great  stone  basin.  These  fountains  are  often 

of  immense  size  and  most  elaborate  design 

There  are  a  great  many  of  these  fountain-shapes, 
constructed  under  the  orders  of  one  pope  or  another, 
in  all  parts  of  the  city ;  and  only  the  very  simplest, 
such  as  a  jet  springing  from  a  broad  marble  or  por 
phyry  vase,  and  falling  back  into  it  again,  are  really 
ornamental.  If  an  antiquary  were  to  accompany  me 
through  the  streets,  no  doubt  he  would  point  out  ten 
thousand  interesting  objects  that  I  now  pass  over 
unnoticed,  so  general  is  the  surface  of  plaster  and 
whitewash ;  but  often  I  can  see  fragments  of  antiq 
uity  built  into  the  walls,  or  perhaps  a  church  that 
was  a  Roman  temple,  or  a  basement  of  ponderous 
stones  that  were  laid  above  twenty  centuries  ago. 
It  is  strange  how  our  ideas  of  what  antiquity  is  be 
come  altered  here  in  Rome ;  the  sixteenth  century,  in 
which  many  of  the  churches  and  fountains  seem  to 
have  been  built  or  re-edified,  seems  close  at  hand, 
even  like  our  own  days ;  a  thousand  years,  or  the 
days  of  the  latter  empire,  is  but  a  modern  date,  and 
scarcely  interests  us ;  and  nothing  is  really  venerable 
of  a  more  recent  epoch  than  the  reign  of  Constantine. 
And  the  Egyptian  obelisks  that  stand  in  several  of 
3* 


58  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  piazzas  put  even  the  Augustan  or  Republican 
antiquities  to  shame.  I  remember  reading  in  a  New 
York  newspaper  an  account  of  one  of  the  public 
buildings  of  that  citv, —  a  relic  of  "the  olden  time," 
the  writer  called  it;  for  it  was  erected  in  1825!  I 
am  glad  I  saw  the  castles  and  Gothic  churches  and 
cathedrals  of  England  before  visiting  Rome,  or  I  never 
could  have  felt  that  delightful  reverence  for  their 
gray  and  ivy-hung  antiquity  after  seeing  these  so 
much  older  remains.  But,  indeed,  old  things  are  not 
so  beautiful  in  this  dry  climate  and  clear  atmosphere 

as  in  moist  England 

Whatever  beauty  there  may  be  in  a  Roman  ruin 
is  the  remnant  of  what  was  beautiful  originally ; 
whereas  an  English  ruin  is  more  beautiful  often  in 
its  decay  than  even  it  was  in  its  primal  strength. 
If  we  ever  build  such  noble  structures  as  these 
Roman  ones,  we  can  have  just  as  good  ruins,  after 
two  thousand  years,  in  the  United  States  ;  but  we 
never  can  have  a  Furness  Abbey  or  a  Kenilworth. 
The  Corso,  and  perhaps  some  other  streets,  does  not 
deserve  all  the  vituperation  which  I  have  bestowed 
on  the  generality  of  Roman  vias,  though  the  Corso 
is  narrow,  not  averaging  more  than  nine  paces,  if  so 
much,  from  sidewalk  to  sidewalk.  But  palace  after 
palace  stands  along  almost  its  whole  extent,  —  not, 
however,  that  they  make  such  architectural  show  on 
the  street  as  palaces  should.  The  enclosed  courts 
were  perhaps  the  only  parts  of  these  edifices  which 
the  founders  cared  to  enrich  architecturally.  I  think 
Linlithgow  Palace,  of  which  I  saw  the  ruins  during  my 


1858.]  ITALY.  59 

last  tour  in  Scotland,  was  built  by  an  architect  who 
had  studied  these  Roman  palaces.  There  was  never 
any  idea  of  domestic  comfort,  or  of  what  we  include 
in  the  name  of  home,  at  all  implicated  in  such  struct 
ures,  they  being  generally  built  by  wifeless  and 
childless  churchmen  for  the  display  of  pictures  and 
statuary  in  galleries  and  long  suites  of  rooms. 

I  have  not  yet  fairly  begun  the  sight-seeing  of 
Rome.  I  have  been  four  or  five  times  to  St.  Peter's, 
and  always  with  pleasure,  because  there  is  such  a 
delightful,  summer-like  warmth  the  moment  we  pass 
beneath  the  heavy,  padded  leather  curtains  that 
protect  the  entrances.  It  is  almost  impossible  not  to 
believe  that  this  genial  temperature  is  the  result  of 
furnace-heat,  but,  really,  it  is  the  warmth  of  last  sum 
mer,  which  will  be  included  within  those  massive 
walls,  and  in  that  vast  immensity  of  space,  till,  six 
months  hence,  this  winter's  chill  will  just  have  made 
its  way  thither.  It  would  be  an  excellent  plan  for  a 
valetudinarian  to  lodge  during  the  winter  in  St. 
Peter's,  perhaps  establishing  his  household  in  one 
of  the  papal  tombs.  I  become,  I  think,  more  sensible 
of  the  size  of  St.  Peter's,  but  am  as  yet  far  from 
being  overwhelmed  by  it.  It  is  not,  as  one  expects, 
so  big  as  all  out  o'  doors,  nor  is  its  dome  so  immense 
as  that  of  the  firmament.  It  looked  queer,  however, 
the  other  day,  to  see  a  little  ragged  boy,  the  very 
least  of  human  things,  going  round  and  kneeling  at 
shrine  after  shrine,  and  a  group  of  children  standing 
on  tiptoe  to  reach  the  vase  of  holy  water 

On  coming  out  of  St.  Peter's  at  my  last  visit,  I  saw 


CO  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858 

a  great  sheet  of  ice  around  the  fountain  on  the  right 
hand,  and  some  little  Romans  awkwardly  sliding  on 
it.  I,  too,  took  a  slide,  just  for  the  sake  of  doing 
what  I  never  thought  to  do  in  Home.  This  in 
clement  weather,  I  should  suppose,  must  make  the 
whole  city  very  miserable ;  for  the  native  Romans,  I 
am  told,  never  keep  any  fire,  except  for  culinary  pur 
poses,  even  in  the  severest  winter.  They  flee  from 
their  cheerless  houses  into  the  open  air,  and  bring 
their  firesides  along  with  them  in  the  shape  of  small 
earthen  vases,  or  pipkins,  with  a  handle  by  which 
they  carry  them  up  and  down  the  streets,  and  so 
warm  at  least  their  hands  with  the  lighted  charcoal. 
I  have  had  glimpses  through  open  doorways  into 
interiors,  and  saw  them  as  dismal  as  tombs.  Wher 
ever  I  pass  my  summers,  let  me  spend  my  winters  in 
a  cold  country. 

We  went  yesterday  to  the  Pantheon 

When  I  first  came  to  Rome,  I  felt  embarrassed  and 
unwilling  to  pass,  with  my  heresy,  between  a  devotee 
and  his  saint ;  for  they  often  shoot  their  prayers  at  a 
shrine  almost  quite  across  the  church.  But  there 
seems  to  be  no  violation  of  etiquette  in  so  doing.  A 
woman  begged  of  us  in  the  Pantheon,  and  accused 

my  wife  of  impiety  for  not  giving  her  an  alms 

People  of  very  decent  appearance  are  often  unexpect 
edly  converted  into  beggars  as  you  approach  them ; 
but  in  general  they  take  a  "  No  "  at  once. 

February  Wi.  —  For  three  or  four  days  it  has  been 
cloudy  and  rainy,  which  is  the  greater  pity,  as  this 
should  be  the  gayest  and  merriest  part  of  the  Garni- 


1858.]  ITALY.  61 

val.  I  go  out  but  little,  —  yesterday  only  as  far  as 
Pakenharn's  and  Hooker's  bank  in  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna,  when  I  read  Galignani  and  the  American 
papers.  At  last,  after  seeing  in  England  more  of  my 
fellow-compatriots  than  ever  before,  I  really  am  dis 
joined  from  rny  country. 

•  To-day  I  walked  out  along  the  Pincian  Hill 

A.S  the  clouds  still  threatened  rain,  I  deemed  it  my 
safest  course  to  go  to  St.  Peter's  for  refuge.  Heavy 
and  dull  as  the  day  was,  the  effect  of  this  great  world 
of  a  church  was  still  brilliant  in  the  interior,  as  if  it 
nad  a  sunshine  of  its  own,  as  well  as  its  own  temper 
ature  ;  and,  by  and  by,  the  sunshine  of  the  outward 
world  came  through  the  windows,  hundreds  of  feet 

aloft,  and  fell  upon  the  beautiful  inlaid  pavement 

Against  a  pillar,  on  one  side  of  the  nave,  is  a  mosaic 
copy  of  Raphael's  Transfiguration,  fitly  framed  within 
a  great  arch  of  gorgeous  marble ;  and,  no  doubt,  the 
indestructible  mosaic  has  preserved  it  far  more  com 
pletely  than  the  fading  and  darkening  tints  in  which 
the  artist  painted  it.  At  any  rate,  it  seemed  to  me 
the  one  glorious  picture  that  I  have  ever  seen.  The 
pillar  nearest  the  great  entrance,  on  the  left  of  the 
nave,  supports  the  monument  to  the  Stuart  family, 
where  two  winged  figures,  with  inverted  torches,  stand 
on  either  side  of  a  marble  door,  which  is  closed 
forever.  It  is  an  impressive  monument,  for  you  feel 
as  if  the  last  of  the  race  had  passed  through  that 
door. 

Emerging  from  the  church,   I  saw  a  French   ser 
geant  drilling  his  men  in  the  piazza.     These  French 


62  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

soldiers  are  prominent  objects  everywhere  about  the 
city,  and  make  up  more  of  its  sight  and  sound  than 
anything  else  that  lives.  They  stroll  about  individu 
ally  ;  they  pace  as  sentinels  in  all  the  public  places ; 
and  they  march  up  and  down  in  squads,  companies, 
and  battalions,  always  with  a  very  great  din  of  drum, 
fife,  and  trumpet ;  ten  times  the  proportion  of  musitf 
that  the  same  number  of  men  would  require  elsewhere  ; 
and  it  reverberates  with  ten  times  the  noise,  between 
the  high  edifices  of  these  lanes,  that  it  could  make 
in  broader  streets.  Nevertheless,  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  the  French  soldiers;  they  are  fresh,  healthy, 
smart,  honest-looking  young  fellows  enough,  in  blue 
coats  and  red  trousers  ;  .  .  .  .  and,  at  all  events,  they 
serve  as  an  efficient  police,  making  Home  as  safe  as 
London ;  whereas,  without  them,  it  would  very  likely 
be  a  den  of  banditti. 

On  my  way  home  I  saw  a  few  tokens  of  the  Car 
nival,  which  is  now  in  full  progress ;  though,  as  it  was* 
only  about  one  o'clock,  its  frolics  had  not  commenced 

for  the  day I  question  whether  the  Roman? 

themselves  take  any  great  interest  in  the  Carnival. 
The  balconies  along  the  Corso  were  almost  entirely 
taken  by  English  and  Americans,  or  other  foreigners. 

As  I  approached  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo,  I  saw 
several  persons  engaged,  as  I  thought,  in  fishing  in 
the  Tiber,  with  very  strong  lines ;  but  on  drawing 
nearer  I  found  that  they  were  trying  to  hook  up  the 
branches,  and  twigs,  and  other  drift-wood,  which  the 
recent  rains  might  have  swept  into  the  river.  There 
was  a  little  heap  of  what  looked  chiefly  like  willow 


1858.]  ITALY.  63 

twigs,  the  poor  result  of  their  labor.  The  hook  was  a 
knot  of  wood,  with  the  lopped-off  branches  projecting 
in  three  or  four  prongs.  The  Tiber  has  always  the 
hue  of  a  mud-puddle  •  but  now,  after  a  heavy  rain 
which  has  washed  the  clay  into  it,  it  looks  like  pease- 
soup.  It  is  a  broad  and  rapid  stream,  eddying  along 
as  if  it  were  in  haste  to  disgorge  its  impurities  into 
the  sea.  On  the  left  side,  where  the  city  mostly  is 
situated,  the  buildings  hang  directly  over  the  stream  ; 
on  the  other,  where  stand  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo 
and  the  Church  of  St.  Peter,  the  town  does  not  press 
so  imminent  upon  the  shore.  The  banks  are  clayey, 
and  look  as  if  the  river  had  been  digging  them  away 
for  ages ;  but  I  believe  its  bed  is  higher  than  of  yore. 

February  10th.  —  I  went  out  to-day,  and,  going 
along  the  Via  Felice  and  the  Via  delle  Quattro  Fon- 
tane,  came  unawares  to  the  Basilica  of  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore,  on  the  summit  of  the  Esquiline  Hill.  I  en 
tered  it,  without  in  the  least  knowing  what  church 
it  was,  and  found  myself  in  a  broad  and  noble  nave, 
both  very  simple  and  very  grand.  There  was  a  long 
row  of  Ionic  columns  of  marble,  twenty  or  thereabouts 
on  each  side,  supporting  a  flat  roof.  There  were 
vaulted  side-aisles,  and,  at  the  farther  end,  a  bronze 
canopy  over  the  high  altar  ;  and  all  along  the  length 
of  the  side-aisles,  were  shrines  with  pictures,  sculp 
ture,  and  burning  lamps  ;  the  whole  church,  too,  was 
lined  with  marble  :  the  roof  was  gilded  ;  and  yet  the 
general  effect  of  severe  and  noble  simplicity  triumphed 
over  all  the  ornament.  I  should  have  taken  it  for  a 
lioman  temple,  retaining  nearly  its  pristine  aspect; 


64  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        \IS58. 

but  Murray  tells  us  that  it  was  founded  A.  D.  342  by 
Pope  Liberius,  on  the  spot  precisely  marked  out  by  a 
miraculous  fall  of  snow,  in  the  month  of  August,  and 
it  has  undergone  many  alterations  since  his  time. 
But  it  is  very  line,  and  gives  the  beholder  the  idea  of 
vastness,  which  seems  harder  to  attain  than  anything 
else.  On  the  right  hand,  approaching  the  high  altar, 
there  is  a  chapel,  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
church  by  an  iron  paling ;  and,  being  admitted  into  it 
with  another  party,  I  found  it  most  elaborately  mag 
nificent.  But  one  magnificence  outshone  another,  and 
made  itself  the  brightest  conceivable  for  the  moment. 
However,  this  chapel  was  as  rich  as  the  most  precious 
marble  could  make  it,  in  pillars  and  pilasters,  and 
broad,  polished  slabs,  covering  the  whole  walls  (except 
where  there  were  splendid  and  glowing  frescos ;  or 
where  some  monumental  statuary  or  bas-relief,  or 
mosaic  picture  filled  up  an  arched  niche).  Its  archi 
tecture  was  a  dome,  resting  oh  four  great  arches ; 
and  in  size  it  would  alone  have  been  a  church.  In  the 
centre  of  the  mosaic  pavement  there  was  a  flight  of 
steps,  down  which  we  went,  and  saw  a  group  in  mar 
ble,  representing  the  nativity  of  Christ,  which,  judging 
by  the  unction  with  which  our  guide  talked  about  it, 
must  have  been  of  peculiar  sanctity.  I  hate  to  leave 
this  chapel  and  church,  without  being  able  to  say  any 
one  thing  that  may  reflect  a  portion  of  their  beauty, 
or  of  the  feeling  which  they  excite.  Kneeling  against 
many  of  the  pillars  there  were  persons  in  prayer,  and 
I  stepped  softly,  fearing  lest  my  tread  on  the  marble 
pavement  should  disturb  them,  —  a  needless  precau- 


1858.]  ITALY.  65 

tion,  however,  for  nobody  seeins  to  expect  it,  nor  to 
be  disturbed  by  the  lack  of  it. 

The  situation  of  the  church,  I  should  suppose,  is 
the  loftiest  in  Rome  :  it  has  a  fountain  at  one  end, 
and  a  column  at  the  other ;  but  I  did  not  pay  par 
ticular  attention  to  either,  nor  to  the  exterior  of  the 
church  itself. 

On  my  return,  I  turned  aside  from  the  Via  delle 
Quattro  Fontane  into  the  Via  Quirinalis,  and  was  led 
by  it  into  the  Piazza  di  Monte  Cavallo.  The  street 
through  which  I  passed  was  broader,  cleanlier,  and 
statelier  than  most  streets  in  Rome,  and  bordered  by 
palaces ;  and  the  piazza  had  noble  edifices  around  it, 
and  a  fountain,  an  obelisk,  and  two  nude  statues  in 
the  centre.  The  obelisk  was,  as  the  inscription  indi 
cated,  a  relic  of  Egypt ;  the  basin  of  the  fountain  was 
an  immense  bowl  of  Oriental  granite,  into  which 
poured  a  copious  flood  of  water,  discolored  by  the 
rain  ;  the  statues  were  colossal,  —  two  beautiful  young 
men,  each  holding  a  fiery  steed.  On  the  pedestal  of 
one  was  the  inscription,  OPUS  PHIDI^E  ;  on  the  other, 
OPUS  PRAXITELIS.  What  a  city  is  this,  when  one  may 
stumble,  by  mere  chance  —  at  a  street  corner,  as  it 
were  —  on  the  works  of  two  such  sculptors  !  I  do  not 
know  the  authority  on  which  these  statues  (Castor 
and  Pollux,  I  presume)  are  attributed  to  Phidias  and 
Praxiteles ;  but  they  impressed  me  as  noble  and  god 
like,  and  I  feel  inclined  to  take  them  for  what  they 
purport  to  be.  On  one  side  of  the  piazza  is  the  Pon 
tifical  Palace ;  but,  not  being  aware  of  this  at  the 
time,  I  did  not  look  particularly  at  the  edifice. 


66  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE -BOOKS.        [1858- 

I  came  home  by  way  of  the  Corso,  which  seemed  a 
little  enlivened  by  Carnival  time  ;  though,  as  it  was 
not  yet  two  o'clock,  the  fun  had  not  begun  for  the  day. 
The  rain  throws  a  dreary  damper  on  the  festivities. 

February    13th.  —  Day   before   yesterday  we   took 

J and  R in  a  carriage,  and  went  to  see  the 

Carnival,  by  driving  up  and  down  the  Corso.  It  was 
as  ugly  a  day,  as  respects  weather,  as  has  befallen  us 
since  we  came  to  Rome,  —  cloudy,  with  an  indecisive 
wret,  which  finally  settled  into  a  rain  ;  and  people  say 
that  such  is  generally  the  weather  in  Carnival  time. 
There  is  very  little  to  be  said  about  the  spectacle. 
Sunshine  would  have  improved  it,  no  doubt ;  but  a 
person  must  have  very  broad  sunshine  within  himself 
to  be  joyous  on  such  shallow  provocation.  The  street, 
at  all  events,  would  have  looked  rather  brilliant  under 
a  sunny  sky,  the  balconies  being  hung  with  bright- 
colored  draperies,  which  were  also  flung  out  of  some 

of  the  windows Soon  I  had  my  first  experience 

of  the  Carnival,  in  a  handful  of  confetti,  right  slap  ill 

my   face Many  of  the  ladies  wore  loose  white 

dominos,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  had  on  defen 
sive  armor  of  blouses;  and  wire  masks  over  the 
face  were  a  protection  for  both  sexes,  —  not  a  need 
less  one,  for  I  received  a  shot  in  my  right  eye  which 
cost  me  many  tears.  It  seems  to  be  a  point  of 
courtesy  (though  often  disregarded  by  Americans 
and  English)  not  to  fling  confetti  at  ladies,  or 
at  non-combatants,  or  quiet  bystanders;  and  the 
engagements  with  these  missiles  were  generally 
between  open  carriages,  manned  with  youths,  who 


1858.]  ITALY.  67 

were  provided  with  confetti  for  such  encounters, 
and  with  bouquets  for  the  ladies.  We  had  one 
veal  enemy  on  the  Corso ;  for  our  former  friend 

Mrs.  T was  there,  and  as  often  as  we  passed  and 

repassed  her,  she  favored  us  with  a  handful  of  lime. 
Two  or  three  times  somebody  ran  by  the  carriage  and 
puffed  forth  a  shower  of  winged  seeds  through  a  tube 
into  our  faces  and  over  our  clothes;  and,  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon,  we  were  hit  with  perhaps 
half  a  dozen  sugar-plums.  Possibly  we  may  not  have 

received  our  fair  share  of  these  last  salutes,  for  J 

had  on  a  black  mask,  which  made  him  look  like  an 
imp  of  Satan,  and  drew  many  volleys  of  confetti  that 
we  might  otherwise  have  escaped.  A  good  many  bou 
quets  were  flung  at  our  little  R, ,  and  at  us  gener 
ally This  was  what  is  called  masking-day, 

when  it  is  the  rule  to  wear  masks  in  the  Corso,  but  the 

great  majority  of  people  appeared  without  them 

Two  fantastic  figures,  with  enormous  heads,  set  round 
with  frizzly  hair,  came  and  grinned  into  our  carriage, 

and  J tore  out  a  handful  of  hair  (which  proved  to 

be  sea-weed)  from  one  of  their  heads,  rather  to  the 
discomposure  of  the  owner,  who  muttered  his  indigna 
tion  in  Italian On  comparing  notes  with  J • 

and  R ,  indeed  with  U too,  I  find  that  they 

all  enjoyed  the  Carnival  much  more  than  I  did.  Only 
the  young  ought  to  write  descriptions  of  such  scenes. 
My  cold  criticism  chills  the  life  out  of  it. 

February  Ikth.  —  Friday,  12th,  was  a  sunny  day, 
the  first  that  we  had  had  for  some  time ;  and  my 
wife  and  1  went  forth  to  see  sights  as  well  as  to  make 


68  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

some  calls  that  had  long  been  due.  We  went  first  to 
the  church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  which  I  have 
already  mentioned,  and,  on  our  return,  we  went  to  the 
Piazza  di  Monte  Cavallo,  and  saw  those  admirable  an 
cient  statues  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  which  seem  to  me 
sons  of  the  morning,  and  full  of  life  and  strength. 
The  atmosphere,  in  such  a  length  of  time,  has  covered 
the  marble  surface  of  these  statues  with  a  gray  rust, 
that  envelops  both  the  men  and  horses  as  with  a 
garment;  besides  which,  there  are  strange  discolora 
tion,  such  as  patches  of  white  moss  on  the  elbows,  and 
reddish  streaks  down  the  sides  ;  but  the  glory  of  form 
overcomes  all  these  defects  of  color.  It  is  pleasant 
to  observe  how  familiar  some  little  birds  are  with  these 
colossal  statues,  • —  hopping  about  on  their  heads  and 
over  their  huge  fists,  and  very  likely  they  have  nests 
in  their  ears  or  among  their  hair. 

We  called  at  the  Barberini  Palace,  where  William 
Story  has  established  himself  and  family  for  the  next 
seven  years,  or  more,  on  the  third  piano,  in  apartments 
that  afford  a  very  fine  outlook  over  Rome,  and  have 

the  sun  in  them  through  most  of  the  day.  Mrs.  S 

invited  us  to  her  fancy  ball,  but  we  declined. 

On  the  staircase  ascending  to  their  piano  we  saw  tho 
ancient  Greek  bas-relief  of  a  lion,  whence  Canova  is 
supposed  to  have  taken  the  idea  of  his  lions  on  the 
monument  in  St.  Peter's.  Afterwards  we  made  two 
or  three  calls  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Piazza  di 
Spagna,  finding  only  Mr.  Hamilton  Fisk  and  family, 
at  the  Hotel  d'Europe,  at  home,  and  next  visited  the 
studio  of  Mr.  C.  G.  Thompson,  whom  I  knew  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  69 

Boston.  He  has  very  greatly  improved  since  those 
days,  and,  being  always  a  man  of  delicate  mind,  and 
earnestly  desiring  excellence  for  its  own  sake,  he  has 
won  himself  the  power  of  doing  beautiful  and  elevated 
works.  He  is  now  meditating  a  series  of  pictures 
from  Shakespeare's  "  Tempest,"  the  sketches  of  one  or 
two  of  which  he  showed  us,  likewise  a  copy  of  a  small 
Madonna,  by  Raphael,  wrought  with  a  minute  faithful 
ness  which  it  makes  one  a  better  man  to  observe. 
....  Mr.  Thompson  is  a  true  artist,  and  whatever  his 
pictures  have  of  beauty  comes  from  very  far  beneath 
the  surface;  and  this,  I  suppose,  is  one  weighty  reason 
why  he  has  but  moderate  success.  I  should  like  his 
pictures  for  the  mere  color,  even  if  they  represented 
nothing.  His  studio  is  in  the  Via  Sistina ;  and,  at  a 
little  distance  on  the  other  side  of  the  same  street,  is 
William  Story's,  where  we  likewise  went,  and  found 
him  at  work  on  a  sitting  statue  of  Cleopatra. 

William  Story  looks  quite  as  vivid,  in  a  graver  way, 
as  when  I  saw  him  last,  a  very  young  man.  His  per 
plexing  variety  of  talents  and  accomplishments  —  he 
being  a  poet,  a  prose  writer,  a  lawyer,  a  painter,  a 
musician,  and  a  sculptor  —  seems  now  to  be  concentrat 
ing  itself  into  this  latter  vocation,  and  I  cannot  see 
why  he  should  not  achieve  something  very  good.  He 
has  a  beautiful  statue,  already  finished,  of  Goethe's 
Margaret,  pulling  a  flower  to  pieces  to  discover  whether 
Faust  loves  her;  a  very  type  of  virginity  and  simpli 
city.  The  statue  of  Cleopatra,  now  only  fourteen 
days  advanced  in  the  clay,  is  as  wide  a  step  from  the 
little  maidenly  Margaret  as  any  artist  could  take  ;  it 


70  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1S58. 

is  a  grand  subject,  and  he  is  conceiving  it  with  depth 
and  power,  and  working  it  out  with  adequate  skill. 
He  certainly  is  sensible  of  something  deeper  in  his  art 
than  merely  to  make  beautiful  nudities  and  baptize 
them  by  classic  names.  By  the  by,  he  told  vis  several 
queer  stories  of  American  visitors  to  his  studio  :  one 
of  them,  after  long  inspecting  Cleopatra,  into  which 
he  has  put  all  possible  characteristics  of  her  time  and 
nation  and  of  her  own  individuality,  asked,  "  Have 
you  baptized  your  -statue  yet  1 "  as  if  the  sculptor  were 
waiting  till  his  statue  were  finished  before  he  choso 
the  subject  of  it, — as,  indeed,  I  should  think  many 
sculptors  do.  Another  remarked  of  a  statue  of  Hero, 
who  is  seeking  Leander  by  torchlight,  and  in  momen 
tary  expectation  of  finding  his  drowned  body,  "  Is 
not  the  face  a  little  sadl"  Another  time  a  whole 
party  of  Americans  filed  into  his  studio,  and  ranged 
themselves  round  his  father's  statue,  and,  after  much 
silent  examination,  the  spokesman  of  the  party  in 
quired,  "  Well,  sir,  what  is  this  intended  to  represent1?" 
William  Story,  in  telling  these  little  anecdotes,  gave 

the  Yankee  twang  to  perfection 

The  statue  of  his  father,  his  first  work,  is  very 
noble,  as  noble  and  fine  a  portrait-statue  as  I  ever 
saw.  In  the  outer  room  of  his  studio  a  stone-cutter, 
or  whatever  this  kind  of  artisan  is  called,  was  at 
work,  transferring  the  statue  of  Hero  from  the 
plaster-cast  into  marble  ;  and  already,  though  still  in 
some  respects  a  block  of  stone,  there  was  a  wonderful 
degree  of  expression  in  the  face.  It  is  not  quite  pleas 
ant  to  think  that  the  sculptor  does  not  really  do  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  71 

•whole  labor  on  his  statues,  but  that  they  are  all  but 
finished  to  his  hand  by  merely  mechanical  people.  It 
is  generally  only  the  finishing  touches  that  are  given 
by  his  own  chisel. 

Yesterday,  being  another  bright  day,  we  went  to 
the  basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran,  which  is  the  basilica 
next  in  rank  to  St.  Peter's,  and  has  the  precedence  of 
it  as  regards  certain  sacred  privileges.  It  stands  on  a 
most  noble  site,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  com 
manding  a  view  of  the  Sabine  and  Alban  hills,  blue  in 
the  distance,  and  some  of  them  hoary  with  sunny 
snow.  The  ruins  of  the  Claudian  aqueduct  are  close 
at  hand.  The  church  is  connected  with  the  Lateran 
palace  and  museum,  so  that  the  whole  is  one  edifice  ; 
but  the  facade  of  the  church  distinguishes  it,  and  is 
very  lofty  and  grand,  —  more  so,  it  seems  to  me,  than 
that  of  St.  Peter's.  Under  the  portico  is  an  old  statue 
of  Constantino,  representing  him  as  a  very  stout  and 
sturdy  personage.  The  inside  of  the  church  disap 
pointed  me,  though  no  doubt  I  should  have  been 
wonder-struck  had  I  seen  it  a  month  ago.  We  went 
into  one  of  the  chapels,  which  was  very  rich  in  col 
ored  marbles ;  and,  going  down  a  winding  staircase, 
found  ourselves  among  the  tombs  and  sarcophagi  of 
the  Corsini  family,  and  in  presence  of  a  marble  Pieta, 
very  beautifully  sculptured.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
church  we  looked  into  the  Torlonia  Chapel,  very  rich 
and  rather  profusely  gilded,  but,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
not  tawdry,  though  the  white  newness  of  the  marble 
is  not  perfectly  agreeable  after  being  accustomed  to 
the  milder .  tint  which  time  bestows  on  sculpture. 


FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 


The  tombs  and  statues  appeared  like  shapes  and 
images  of  new-fallen  snow.  The  most  interesting  thing 
which  we  saw  in  this  church  (and,  admitting  its 
authenticity,  there  can  scarcely  be  a  more  interesting 
one  anywhere)  was  the  table  at  which  the  Last  Supper 
was  eaten.  It  is  preserved  in  a  corridor,  on  one  side 
of  the  tribune  or  chancel,  and  is  shown  by  torchlight 
suspended  upon  the  wall  beneath  a  covering  of  glass. 
Only  the  top  of  the  table  is  shown,  presenting  a 
broad,  flat  surface  of  wood,  evidently  very  old,  and 
showing  traces  of  dry-rot  in  one  or  two  places.  There 
are  nails  in  it,  and  the  attendant  said  that  it  had 
formerly  been  covered  with  bronze.  As  well  as  I  can 
remember,  it  may  be  five  or  six  feet  square,  and  I 
suppose  would  accommodate  twelve  persons,  though 
not  if  they  reclined  in  the  Roman  fashion,  nor  if  they 
sat  as  they  do  in  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  picture.  It 
would  be  very  delightful  to  believe  in  this  table. 

There  are  several  other  sacred  relics  preserved  in 
the  church  ;  for  instance,  -the  staircase  of  Pilate's 
house  up  which  Jesus  went,  and  the  porphyry  slab  on 
which  the  soldiers  cast  lots  for  his  garments.  These, 
however,  we  did  not  see.  There  are  very  glowing 
frescos  on  portions  of  the  walls;  but,  there  being 
much  whitewash  instead  of  incrusted  marble,  it  has 
not  the  pleasant  aspect  which  one's  eye  learns  to 
demand  in  Roman  churches.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
statuary  along  the  columns  of  the  nave,  and  in  the 
monuments  of  the  side-aisles. 

In  reference  to  the  interior  splendor  of  Roman 
churches,  I  must  say  that  I  think  it  a  pity  that  paint- 


1858.]  ITALY.  73 

ed  windows  are  exclusively  a  Gothic  ornament ;  fcr 
the  elaborate  ornamentation  of  these  interiors  puts 
the  ordinary  daylight  out  of  countenance,  so  that  a 
window  with  only  the  white  sunshine  coming  through 
it,  or  even  with  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  Italian  sky, 
looks  like  a  portion  left  unfinished,  and  therefore  a 
blotch  in  the  rich  wall.  It  is  like  the  one  spot  in 
Aladdin's  palace  which  he  left  for  the  king,  his  father- 
in-law,  to  finish,  after  his  fairy  architects  had  exhaust 
ed  their  magnificence  on  the  rest ;  and  the  sun,  like 
the  king,  fails  in  the  effort.  It  has  what  is  called  a 
porta  sa?ita,  which  we  saw  walled  up,  in  front  of  the 
church,  one  side  of  the  main  entrance.  I  know  not 
what  gives  it  its  sanctity,  but  it  appears  to  be  opened 
by  the  pope  on  a  year  of  jubilee,  once  every  quarter 
of  a  century. 

After  our  return  ....  I  took  R along  the  Pin- 

cian  Hill,  and  finally,  after  witnessing  what  of  the 
Carnival  could  be  seen  in  the  Piazza  del  Popolo  from, 
that  safe  height,  we  went  down  into  the  Corso,  and 
some  little  distance  along  it.  Except  for  the  sun 
shine,  the  scene  was  much  the  same  as  I  have  already 
described  ;  perhaps  fewer  confetti  and  more  bouquets. 
Some  Americans  and  English  are  said  to  have  been 
brought  before  the  police  authorities,  and  fined  for 
throwing  lime.  It  is  remarkable  that  the  jollity,  such 
as  it  is,  of  the  Carnival,  does  not  extend  an  inch 
beyond  the  line  of  the  Corso  ;  there  it  flows  along  in. 
a  narrow  stream,  while  in  the  nearest  street  we  see 
nothing  but  the  ordinary  Roman  gravity. 

February  15th.  — Yesterday  was  a  bright  day,  but  I 


74  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

did  not  go  out  till  the  afternoon,  when  I  took  an  hour's 
walk  along  the  Pincian,  stopping  a  good  while  to  look 
at  the  old  beggar  who,  for  many  years  past,  has  occu 
pied  one  of  the  platforms  of  the  flight  of  steps  leading 
from  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  to  the  Trinita  di  Monti. 
Hillard  commemorates  him   in  his  book.     He  is  an 
unlovely   object,    moving    about    on   his    hands   and 
knees,  principally  by  aid  of  his  hands,  which  are  forti 
fied  with  a  sort  of  wooden  shoes ;    while   his   poor, 
wasted  lower  shanks  stick  up  in  the  air  behind  him, 
loosely  vibrating  as  he  progresses.     He  is  gray,  old, 
ragged,  a  pitiable  sight,  but  seems  very  active  in  his 
own  fashion,  and  bestirs  himself  on  the  approach  of 
his  visitors  with  the  alacrity  of  a  spider  when  a  fly 
touches  the  remote  circumference  of  his  web.     While 
I  looked  down  at  him  he  received  alms  from  three 
persons,  one  of  whom  was  a  young  woman  of  the  lower 
orders ;  the  other  two  were  gentlemen,  probably  either 
English  or  American.     I  could  not  quite  make  out  the 
principle  on  which  he  let  some  people  pass  without 
molestation,  while  he  shuffled  from  one   end  of  the 
platform  to  the  other  to  intercept  an  occasional  indi 
vidual.     He  is  not  persistent  in  his  demands,   nor, 
indeed,  is   this  a  usual  fault  among  Italian  beggars. 
A  shake  of  the  head  will  stop  him  when  wriggling 
towards   you  from  a  distance.     I   fancy  he  reaps  a 
pretty  fair  harvest,  and  no  doubt  leads  as  contented 
and  as  interesting  a  life  as  most  people,  sitting  there 
all  day  on  those  sunny  steps,  looking  at  the  world, 
and  making  his  profit  out  of  it.     It  must  be  pretty 
much  such  an  occupation  as  fishing,  in  its  effect  "upon 


1858.]  ITALY.  75 

the  hopes  and  apprehensions  ;  and  probably  he  suffers 
no  more  from  the  many  refusals  he  meets  with  than 
the  angler  does,  when  he  sees  a  fish  smell  at  his  bait 
and  swim  away.  One  success  pays  for  a  hundred  dis 
appointments,  and  the  game  is  all  the  better  for  not 
being  entirely  in  his  own  favor. 

Walking  onward,  I  found  the  Pincian  thronged  with 
promenaders,  as  also  with  carriages,  which  drove 
round  the  verge  of  the  gardens  in  an  unbroken  ring. 

To-day  has  been  very  rainy.  I  went  out  in  the 
forenoon,  and  took  a  sitting  for  my  bust  in  one  of  a 
suite  of  rooms  formerly  occupied  by  Canova.  It  was 
large,  high,  and  dreary  from  the  want  of  a  carpet, 
furniture,  or  anything  but  clay  and  plaster.  A  sculp 
tor's  studio  has  not  the  picturesque  charm  of  that  of 
a  painter,  where  there  is  color,  warmth,  and  cheerful 
ness,  and  where  the  artist  continually  turns  towards 
you  the  glow  of  some  picture,  which  is  resting  against 

the  wall I  was  asked  not  to  look  at  the  bust 

at  the  close  of  the  sitting,  and,  of  course,  I  obeyed ; 
though  1  have  a  vague  idea  of  a  heavy-browed  physi 
ognomy,  something  like  what  I  have  seen  in  the  glass, 
but  looking  strangely  in  that  guise  of  clay 

It  is  a  singular  fascination  that  Home  exercises 
upon  artists.  There  is  clay  elsewhere,  and  marble 
enough,  and  heads  to  model,  and  ideas  may  be  made 
sensible  objects  at  home  as  well  as  here.  I  think  it  is 
the  peculiar  mode  of  life  that  attracts,  and  its  freedom 
from  the  inthralments  of  society,  more  than  the  ar 
tistic  advantages  which  Rome  offers  ;  and.  no  doubt, 
though  the  artists  care  little  about  one  another's 


76  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1856. 

works,  yet  they  keep  each  other  warm  by  the  pres 
ence  of  so  many  of  them. 

Tho  Carnival  still  continues,  though  I  hardly  see 
how  it  can  have  withstood  such  a  damper  as  this 
rainy  day.  There  were  several  people  —  three,  I 
think  —  killed  in  the  Corso  on  Saturday  ;  some  ac 
counts  say  that  they  were  run  over  by  the  horses  in 
the  race ;  others,  that  they  were  ridden  down  by  the 
dragoons  in  clearing  the  course. 

After  leaving  Canova's  studio,  I  stepped  into  the 
church  of  San  Luigi  de  Franchesi,  in  the  Via  di 
Ripetta.  It  was  built,  I  believe,  by  Catherine  di 
Medici,  and  is  under  the  protection  of  the  French 
government,  and  a  most  shamefully  dirty  place  of 
worship,  the  beautiful  marble  columns  looking  dingy, 
for  the  want  of  loving  and  pious  care.  There  are 
many  tombs  and  monuments  of  French  people,  both  of 
the  past  and  present,  —  artists,  soldiers,  priests,  and 
others,  who  have  died  in  Rome.  It  was  so  dusky 
within  the  church  that  I  could  hardly  distinguish  the 
pictures  in  the  chapels  and  over  the  altar,  nor  did  I 
know  that  there  were  any  worth  looking  for.  Never 
theless,  there  were  frescos  by  Domenichino,  and  oil- 
paintings  by  Guido  and  others.  I  found  it  peculiarly 
touching  to  read  the  records,  in  Latin  or  French,  of 
persons  who  had  died  in  this  foreign  land,  though 
they  were  not  my  own  country-people,  and  though  I 
was  even  less  akin  to  them  than  they  to  Italy.  Still, 
there  was  a  sort  of  relationship  in  the  fact  that  neither 
they  nor  I  belonged  here. 

February  1 7tk.  —  Yesterday  morning  was  perfectly 


1858.]  ITALY.  77 

sunny,  and  we  went  out  betimes  to  see  churches ; 
going  first  to  the  Capuchins',  close  by  the  Piazza 
Barberini. 

["The  Marble  Faun''  takes  up  this  description  of 
the  church  and  of  the  dead  monk,  which  we  really 
saw,  just  as  recounted,  even  to  the  sudden  stream 
of  blood  which  flowed  from  the  nostrils,  as  we  looked 
at  him.  — ED.  ] 

We  next  went  to  the  Trinita  di  Monti,  which 
stands  at  the  head  of  the  steps,  leading,  in  several 
flights,  from  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  It  is  now  con 
nected  with  a  convent  of  French  nuns,  and  when  we 
rang  at  a  side  door,  one  of  the  sisterhood  answered 
the  summons,  and  admitted  us  into  the  church.  This, 
like  that  of  the  Capuchin's,  had  a  vaulted  roof  over 
the  nave,  and  no  side-aisles,  but  rows  of  chapels 
instead.  Unlike  the  Capuchin's,  which  was  filthy, 
and  really  disgraceful  to  behold,  this  church  was  most 
exquisitely  neat,  as  women  alone  would  have  thought 
it  worth  while  to  keep  it.  It  is  not  a  very  splendid 
church,  not  rich  in  gorgeous  marbles,  but  pleasant 
to  be  in,  if  it  were  only  for  the  sake  of  its  godly 
purity.  There  was  only  one  person  in  the  nave  ;  a 
young  girl,  who  sat  perfectly  still,  with  her  face 
towards  the  altar,  as  long  as  we  stayed.  Between 
the  nave  and  the  rest  of  the  church,  there  is  a  high 
iron  railing,  and  on  the  other  side  of  it  were  two 
kneeling  figures  in  black,  so  motionless  that  I  at 
first  thought  them  statues ;  but  they  proved  to  be  two 
nuns  at  their  devotions ;  and  others  of  the  sisterhood 
came  by  and  by  and  joined  them.  Nuns,  at  least 


78  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

these  nuns,  who  are  French,  and  probably  ladies  of 
refinement,  having  the  education  of  young  girls  in 
charge,  are  far  pleasanter  objects  to  sec  and  think 
about  than  monks ;  the  odor  of  sanctity,  in  the  latter, 
not  being  an  agreeable  fragrance.  But  these  holy 
sisters,  with  their  black  crape  and  white  muslin, 
looked  really  pure  and  unspotted  from  the  world. 

On  the  iron  railing  above  mentioned  was  the  repre 
sentation  of  a  golden  heart,  pierced  with  arrows ;  for 
these  are  nuns  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  In  the  various 
chapels  there  are  several  paintings  in  fresco,  some  by 
Daniele  da  Volterra  \  and  one  of  them,  the  "  Descent 
from  the  Cross,"  has  been  pronounced  the  third 
greatest  picture  in  the  world.  I  never  should  have 
had  the  slightest  suspicion  that  it  was  a  great  picture 
at  all,  so  worn  and  faded  it  looks,  and  so  hard,  so 
difficult  to  be  seen,  and  so  undelightful  when  one 
does  see  it. 

From  the  Trinita  we  went  to  the  Santa  Maria  del 
Popolo,  a  church  built  on  a  spot  where  Nero  is  said 
to  have  been  buried,  and  which  was  afterwards  made 
horrible  by  devilish  phantoms.  It  now  being  past 
twelve,  and  all  the  churches  closing  from  twelve  till 
two,  we  had  not  time  to  pay  much  attention  to  the 
frescos,  oil-pictures,  and  statues,  by  Raphael  and 
other  famous  men,  which  are  to  be  seen  here.  I 
remember  dimly  the  magnificent  chapel  of  the  Chigi 
family,  and  little  else,  for  we  stayed  but  a  short  time ; 
and  went  next  to  the  sculptor's  studio,  where  I 
had  another  sitting  for  my  bust.  After  I  had  been 
moulded  for  about  an  hour,  we  turned  homeward ; 


1858.]  ITALY.  79 

but  my  wife  concluded  to  hire  a  balcony  for  this  last 
afternoon  and  evening  of  the  Carnival,  and  she  took 
possession  of  it,  while  I  went  home  to  send  to  her 

Miss   S and    the  two    elder   children.     For  my 

part,  I  took  R ,  and  walked,  by  way  of  the  Pin- 

cian,  to  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and  thence  along  the 
Corso,  where,  by  this  time,  the  warfare  of  bouquets 
and  confetti  raged  pretty  fiercely.  The  sky  being 
blue  and  the  sun  bright,  the  scene  looked  much 
gayer  and  brisker  than  I  had  before  found  it ;  and  I 
can  conceive  of  its  being  rather  agreeable  than  other 
wise,  up  to  the  age  of  twenty.  We  got  several  volleys 
of  confetti.  R received  a  bouquet  and  a  sugar 
plum,  and  I  a  resounding  hit  from  something  that 
looked  more  like  a  cabbage  than  a  flower.  Little  as 
I  have  enjoyed  the  Carnival,  I  think  I  could  make 
quite  a  brilliant  sketch  of  it,  without  very  widely  de 
parting  from  truth. 

February  ISth.  —  Day  before  yesterday,  pretty  early, 
we  went  to  St.  Peter's,  expecting  to  see  the  pope  cast 
ashes  on  the  heads  of  the  cardinals,  it  being  Ash- 
Wednesday.  On  arriving,  however,  we  found  no 
more  than  the  usual  number  of  visitants  and  devo 
tional  people  scattered  through  the  broad  interior  of 
St.  Peter's ;  and  thence  concluded  that  the  ceremonies 
were  to  be  performed  in  the  Sistiue  Chapel.  Accord 
ingly,  we  went  out  of  the  Cathedral,  through  the  door 
in  the  left  transept,  and  passed  round  the  exterior, 
and  through  the  vast  courts  of  the  Vatican,  seeking 
for  the  chapel.  We  had  blundered  into  the  carriage- 
entrance  of  the  palace ;  there  is  an  entrance  from 


80  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

some  point  near  the  front  of  the  church,  but  this  we 
did  not  find.  The  papal  guards,  in  the  strangest 
antique  and  antic  costume  that  was  ever  seen,  —  a 
party-colored  dress,  striped  with  blue,  red,  and  yel 
low,  white  and  black,  with  a  doublet  and  ruff,  and 
trunk-breeches,  and  armed  with  halberds,  —  were  on 
duty  at  the  gateways,  but  suffered  us  to  pass  without 
question.  Finally,  we  reached  a  large  court,  where 
some  cardinals'  red  equipages  and  other  carriages 
were  drawn  up,  but  were  still  at  a  loss  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  the  chapel.  At  last  an  attendant 
kindly  showed  us  the  proper  door,  and  led  us  up 
flights  of  stairs,  along  passages  and  galleries,  and 
through  halls,  till  at  last  we  came  to  a  spacious  and 
lofty  apartment  adorned  with  frescos ;  this  was  the 
Sala  Regia,  and  the  antechamber  to  the  Sistine 
Chapel. 

The  attendant,  meanwhile,  had  informed  us  that 
my  wife  could  not  be  admitted  to  the  chapel  in  her 
bonnet,  and  that  I  myself  could  not  enter  at  all,  for 
lack  of  a  dress-coat ;  so  my  wife  took  off  her  bonnet, 
and,  covering  her  head  with  her  black  lace  veil,  was 
readily  let  in,  while  I  remained  in  the  Sala  Regia, 
with  several  other  gentlemen,  who  found  themselves 
in  the  same  predicament  as  I  was.  There  was  a 
wonderful  variety  of  costume  to  be  seen  and  studied 
among  the  persons  around  me,  comprising  garbs  that 
have  been  elsewhere  laid  aside  for  at  least  three  cen 
turies,  —  the  broad,  plaited,  double  ruff,  and  black 
velvet  cloak,  doublet,  trunk-breeches,  and  sword  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  time,  —  the  papal  guard,  in  their 


1858.]  ITALY.  81 

striped  and  party-colored  dress  as  before  described, 
looking  not  a  little  like  harlequins ;  other  soldiers  in 
helmets  and  jackboots ;  French  officers  of  various 
uniform ;  monks  and  priests ;  attendants  in  old- 
fashioned  and  gorgeous  livery ;  gentlemen,  some  in 
black  dress-coats  and  pantaloons,  others  in  wide 
awake  hats  and  tweed  overcoats;  and  a  few  ladies 
in  the  prescribed  costume  of  black ;  so  that,  in  any 
other  country,  the  scene  might  have  been  taken  for  a 
fancy  ball.  By  and  by,  the  cardinals  began  to  arrive, 
and  added  their  splendid  purple  robes  and  red  hats  to 
make  the  picture  still  more  brilliant.  They  were  old 
men,  one  or  two  very  aged  and  infirm,  and  generally 
men  of  bulk  and  substance,  with  heavy  faces,  fleshy 
about  the  chin.  Their  red  hats,  trimmed  with  gold- 
lace,  are  a  beautiful  piece  of  finery,  and  are  identical 
in  shape  with  the  black,  loosely  cocked  beavers  worn 
by  the  Catholic  ecclesiastics  generally.  Wolsey's  hat, 
which  I  saw  at  the  Manchester  Exhibition,  might  have 
been  made  on  the  same  block,  but  apparently  was 
never  cocked,  as  the  fashion  now  is.  The  attendants 
changed  the  upper  portions  of  their  masters  attire, 
and  put  a  little  cap  of  scarlet  cloth  on  each  of  their 
heads,  after  which  the  cardinals,  one  by  one,  or  two 
by  two,  as  they  happened  to  arrive,  went  into  the 
chapel,  with  a  page  behind  each  holding  up  his  purple 
train.  In  the  mean  while,  within  the  chapel,  we  heard 
singing  and  chanting ;  and  whenever  the  voluminous 
curtains  that  hung  before  the  entrance  were  slightly 
drawn  apart,  we  outsiders  glanced  through,  but  could 
see  only  a  mass  of  people,  and  beyond  them  still 
4*  r 


82  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

another  chapel,  divided  from  the  hither  one  by  a 
screen.  When  almost  everybody  had  gone  in,  there 
•was  a  stir  among  the  guards  and  attendants,  and  a 
door  opened,  apparently  communicating  with  the  inner 
apartments  of  the  Vatican.  Through  this  door  came, 
not  the  pope,  as  I  had  partly  expected,  but  a 
bulky  old  lady  in  black,  with  a  red  face,  who  bowed 
towards  the  spectators  with  an.  aspect  of  dignified 
complaisance  as  she  passed  towards  the  entrance  of 
the  chapel.  I  took  off  my  hat,  unlike  certain  English 
gentlemen  who  stood  nearer,  and  found  that  I  had 
not  done  amiss,  for  it  was  the  Queen  of  Spain. 

There  was  nothing  else  to  be  seen ;  so  I  went  back 
through  the  antechambers  (which  are  noble  halls, 
richly  frescoed  on  the  walls  and  ceilings),  endeavoring 
to  get  out  through  the  same  passages  that  had  let  ine 
in.  I  had  already  tried  to  descend  what  I  now  sup 
pose  to  be  the  Scala  Santa,  but  had  been  turned  back 
by  a  sentinel.  After  wandering  to  and  fro  a  good 
while,  I  at  last  found  myself  in  a  long,  long  gallery, 
on  each  side  of  which  were  innumerable  inscriptions, 
in  Greek  and  Latin,  on  slabs  of  marble,  built  into  the 
walls ;  and  classic  altars  and  tablets  were  ranged 
along,  from  end  to  end.  At  the  extremity  was  a 
closed  iron  grating,  from  which  I  was  retreating  ;  but 
a  French  gentleman  accosted  me,  with  the  informa 
tion  that  the  custode  would  admit  me,  if  I  chose,  and 
would  accompany  me  through  the  sculpture  depart 
ment  of  the  Vatican.  I  acceded,  and  thus  took  my 
first  view  of  those  innumerable  art-treasures,  passing 
from  one  object  t j  another,  at  an  easy  pace,  pausing 


1858.]  ITALY.  83 

hardly  a  moment  anywhere,  and  dismissing  even  the 
Apollo,  and  the  Laocoon,  and  the  Torso  of  Hercules, 
in  the  space  of  half  a  dozen  breaths.  I  was  well 
enough  content  to  do  so,  in  order  to  get  a  general 
idea  of  the  contents  of  the  galleries,  before  settling 
down  upon  individual  objects. 

Most  of  the  world-famous  sculptures  presented  them 
selves  to  my  eye  with  a  kind  of  familiarity,  through 
the  copies  and  casts  which  I  had  seen ;  but  I  found 
the  originals  more  different  than  I  anticipated.  The 
Apollo,  for  instance,  has  a  face  which  I  have  never 
seen  in  any  cast  or  copy.  I  must  confess,  however, 
taking  such  transient  glimpses  as  I  did,  I  was  more 
impressed  with  the  extent  of  the  Vatican,  and  the 
beautiful  order  in  which  it  is  kept,  and  its  great  sun 
ny,  open  courts,  with  fountains,  grass,  and  shrubs,  and 
the  views  of  Rome  and  the  Campagna  from  its  win 
dows,  —  more  impressed  with  these,  and  with  certain 
vastly  capacious  vases,  and  two  great  sarcophagi,  — 
than  with  the  statuary.  Thus  I  went  round  the 
whole,  and  was  dismissed  through  the  grated  barrier 
into  the  gallery  of  inscriptions  again  ;  and  after  a  lit 
tle  more  wandering,  I  made  my  way  out  of  the 
palace.  .... 

Yesterday  I  went  out  betimes,  and  strayed  through 
some  portion  of  ancient  Rome,  to  the  Column  of  Tra 
jan,  to  the  Forum,  thence  along  the  Appian  Way ; 
after  which  I  lost  myself  among  the  intricacies  of  the 
streets,  and  finally  came  out  at  the  bridge  of  St.  An- 
gelo.  The  first  observation  which  a  stranger  is  led 
to  make,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Roman  ruins,  is  that 


84  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

the  inhabitants  seem  to  be  strangely  addicted  to  the 
washing  of  clothes  ;  for  all  the  precincts  of  Trajan's 
Foriim,  and  of  the  Roman  Forum,  and  wherever  else 
an  iron  railing  affords  opportunity  to  hang  them,  were 
whitened  with  sheets,  and  other  linen  and  cotton,  dry 
ing  in  the  sun.  It  must  be  that  washerwomen  bur 
row  among  the  old  temples.  The  second  observation 
is  not  quite  so  favorable  to  the  cleanly  character  of 
the  modern  Romans ;  indeed,  it  is  so  very  unfavora 
ble,  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  express  it.  But  the 
fact  is,  that,  through  the  forum,  ....  and  anywhere 
out  of  the  commonest  foot-track  and  road-way,  you 
must  look  well  to  your  steps If  you  tread  be 
neath  the  triumphal  arch  of  Titus  or  Constantine,  you 
had  better  look  downward  than  upward,  whatever  be 

the  merit  of  the  sculptures  aloft 

After  a  while  the  visitant  finds  himself  getting  ac 
customed  to  this  horrible  state  of  things ;  and  the 
associations  of  moral  sublimity  and  beauty  seem  to 
throw  a  veil  over  the  physical  meannesses  to  which  I 
allude.  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  the  mind  of 
the  people  of  these  countries  that  enables  them  quite 
to  dissever  small  ugliness  from  great  sublimity  and 
beauty.  They  spit  upon  the  glorious  pavement  of  St. 
Peter's,  and  wherever  else  they  like ;  they  place  pal 
try-looking  wooden  confessionals  beneath  its  sublime 
arches,  and  ornament  them  with  cheap  little  colored 
prints  of  the  crucifixion  ;  they  hang  tin  hearts  and 
other  tinsel  and  trumpery  at  the  gorgeous  shrines  of 
the  saints,  in  chapels  that  are  incrustcd  with  gems,  or 
marbles  almost  as  precious  ;  they  put  pasteboard  stat- 


1858.]  ITALY.  85 

ues  of  saints  beneath  the  dome  of  the  Pantheon ;  in 
short,  they  let  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous  come 
close  together,  and  are  not  in  the  least  troubled  by 
the  proximity.  It  must  be  that  their  sense  of  the 
beautiful  is  stronger  than  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind, 
and  that  it  observes  only  what  is  fit  to  gratify  it. 

.  To-day,  which  was  bright  and  cool,  my  wife  and  I 
set  forth  immediately  after  breakfast,  in  search  of  the 
Baths  of  Diocletian,  and  the  church  of  Santa  Maria 
degl'  Angeli.  We  went  too  far  along  the  Via  di  Porta 
Pia,  and  after  passing  by  two  or  three  convents,  and 
their  high  garden  walls,  and  the  villa  Bonaparte  on 
one  side,  and  the  villa  Torlonia  on  the  other,  at  last 
issued  through  the  city  gate.  Before  us,  far  away, 
were  the  Alban  hills,  the  loftiest  of  which  was  abso 
lutely  silvered  with  snow  and  sunshine,  and  set  in  the 
bluest  and  brightest  of  skies.  We  now  retraced  our 
steps  to  the  Fountain  of  the  Termini,  where  is  a  pon 
derous  heap  of  stone,  representing  Moses  striking  the 
rock ;  a  colossal  figure,  not  without  a  certain  enor 
mous  might  and  dignity,  though  rather  too  evidently 
looking  his  awfullest.  This  statue  was  the  deach  of 
its  sculptor,  whose  heart  was  broken  on  account  of 
the  ridicule  it  excited.  There  are  many  more  absurd 
aquatic  devices  in  Rome,  however,  and  few  better. 

We  turned  into  the  Piazza  di  Termini,  the  entrance 
of  which  is  at  this  fountain  ;  and  after  some  inquiry  of 
the  French  soldiers,  a  numerous  detachment  of  whom 
appear  to  be  quartered  in  the  vicinity,  we  found  our 
way  to  the  portal  of  Santa  Maria  degl'  Angeli.  The 
exterior  of  this  church  has  no  pretensions  to  beauty  or 


86  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858 

majesty,  or,  indeed,  to  architectural  merit  of  any  kind, 
or  to  any  architecture  whatever ;  for  it  looks  like  a 
confused  pile  of  ruined  brickwork,  with  a  faQade  re 
sembling  half  the  inner  curve  of  a  large  oven.  No  one 
would  imagine  that  there  was  a  church  under  that 
enormous  heap  of  ancient  rubbish.  But  the  door  ad 
mits  you  into  a  circular  vestibule,  once  an  apartment 
of  Diocletian's  Baths,  but  now  a  portion  of  the  nave  of 
the  church,  and  surrounded  with  monumental  busts ; 
and  thence  you  pass  into  what  was  the  central  hall ; 
now,  with  little  change,  except  of  detail  and  ornament, 
transformed  into  the  body  of  the  church.  This  space 
is  so  lofty,  broad,  and  airy,  that  the  soul  forthwith 
swells  oiit  and  magnifies  itself,  for  the  sake  of  filling 
it.  It  was  Michel  Angelo  who  contrived  this  miracle ; 
and  I  feel  even  more  grateful  to  him  for  rescuing  such 
a  noble  interior  from  destruction,  than  if  he  had  origi 
nally  built  it  himself.  In  the  ceiling  above,  you  see 
the  metal  fixtures  whereon  the  old  Romans  hung  their 
lamps  ;  and  there  are  eight  gigantic  pillars  of  Egyp 
tian  granite,  standing  as  they  stood  of  yore-  There  is 
a  grand  simplicity  about  the  church,  more  satisfactory 
than  elaborate  ornament ;  but  the  present  pope  has 
paved  and  adorned  one  of  the  large  chapels  of  the 
transept  in  very  beautiful  style,  and  the  pavement  of 
the  central  part  is  likewise  laid  in  rich  marbles.  In 
the  choir  there  are  several  pictures,  one  of  which  was 
veiled,  as  celebrated  pictures  frequently  are  in 
churches.  A  person,  who  seemed  to  be  at  his  devo 
tions,  withdrew  the  veil  for  us,  and  we  saw  a  Martyr 
dom  of  St.  Sebastian,  by  Domenichino,  originally,  I 


1858.]  ITALY.  87 

believe,  painted  in  fresco  in  St.  Peter's,  but  since  trans 
ferred  to  canvas,  and  removed  hither.  Its  place  at 
St.  Peter's  is  supplied  by  a  mosaic  copy.  I  was  a 
good  deal  impressed  by  this  picture,  —  the  dying  saint, 
amid  the  sorrow  of  those  who  loved  him,  and  the  fury 
of  his  enemies,  looking  upward,  where  a  company  of 
angels,  and  Jesus  with  them,  are  waiting  to  welcome 
him  and  crown  him  ;  and  I  felt  what  an  influence 
pictures  might  have  upon  the  devotional  part  of  our 
nature.  The .  nail-marks  in  the  hands  and  feet  of 
Jesus,  ineffaceable,  even  after  he  had  passed  into  bliss 
and  glory,  touched  my  heart  with  a  sense  of  his  love 
for  us.  I  think  this  really  a  great  picture.  We  walked 
round  the  church,  looking  at  other  paintings  and 
frescos,  but  saw  no  others  that  greatly  interested  us. 
In  the  vestibule  there  are  monuments  to  Carlo  Maratti 
and  Salvator  Eosa,  and  there  is  a  statue  of  St.  Bruno, 
by  Houdon,  which  is  pronounced  to  be  very  fine.  I 
thought  it  good,  but  scarcely  worthy  of  vast  admira 
tion.  Houdon  was  the  sculptor  of  the  first  statue  of 
Washington,  and  of  the  bust,  whence,  I  suppose,  all 
subsequent  statues  have  been,  and  will  be,  mainly 
modelled. 

After  emerging  from  the  church,  I  looked  back 
with  wonder  at  the  stack  of  shapeless  old  brickwork 
that  hid  the  splendid  interior.  I  must  go  there  again, 
and  breathe  freely  in  that  noble  space. 

February  20th.  —  This  morning,  after  breakfast,  I 
walked  across  the  city,  making  a  pretty  straight 
course  to  the  Pantheon,  and  thence  to  the  bridge  of 
St.  Angelo,  and  to  St.  Peter's.  It  had  been  my  pur- 


88  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858, 

pose  to  go  to  the  Fontana  Paolina ;  but,  finding  that 
the  distance  was  too  great,  and  being  weighed  down 
with  a  Roman  lassitude,  I  concluded  to  go  into  St. 
Peter's.  Here  I  looked  at  Michel  Angelo's  Pieta,  a 
representation  of  the  dead  Christ,  in  his  mother's  lap. 
Then  I  strolled  round  the  great  church,  and  find  that 
it  continues  to  grow  upon  me  both  in  magnitude  and 
beauty,  by  comparison  with  the  many  interiors  of 
sacred  edifices  which  I  have  lately  seen.  At  times,  a 
single,  casual,  momentary  glimpse  of  its,  magnificence 
gleams  upon  my  soul,  as  it  were,  when  I  happen  to 
glance  at  arch  opening  beyond  arch,  and  I  am  sur 
prised  into  admiration.  I  have  experienced  that  a 
landscape  and  the  sky  unfold  the  deepest  beauty  in  a 
similar  way ;  not  when  they  are  gazed  at  of  set  pur 
pose,  but  when  the  spectator  looks  suddenly  through 
a  vista,  among  a  crowd  of  other  thoughts.  Passing 
near  the  confessional  for  foreigners  to-day,  I  saw  a 
Spaniard,  who  had  just  come  out  of  the  one  devoted 
to  his  native  tongue,  taking  leave  of  his  confessor, 
with  an  affectionate  reverence,  which  —  as  well  as  the 
benign  dignity  of  the  good  father  —  it  was  good  to 

behold 

I  returned  home  early,  in  order  to  go  with  my  wife 
to  the  Barberini  Palace  at  two  o'clock.  We  entered 
through  the  gateway,  through  the  Via  delle  Quattro 
Fontane,  passing  one  or  two  sentinels;  for  there  is 
apparently  a  regiment  of  dragoons  quartered  on  the 
ground  floor  of  the  palace ;  and  I  stumbled  upon  a 
room  containing  their  saddles,  the  other  day,  when 
seeking  for  Mr.  Story's  staircase.  The  entrance  to 


1858.]  ITALY.  89 

the  picture  gallery  is  by  a  door  on  the  right  hand, 
affording  us  a  sight  of  a  beautiful  spiral  staircase, 
which  goes  circling  upward  from  the  very  basement 
to  the  very  summit  of  the  palace,  with  a  perfectly 
easy  ascent,  yet  confining 'its  sweep  within  a  moderate 
compass.  We  looked  up  through  the  interior  of  the 
spiral,  as  through  a  tube,  from  the  bottom  to  the  top. 
The  pictures  are  contained  in  three  contiguous  rooms 
of  the  lower  piano,  and  are  few  in  number,  compris 
ing  barely  half  a  dozen  which  I  should  care  to  see 
again,  though  doubtless  all  have  value  in  their  way. 
One  that  attracted  our  attention  was  a  picture  of 
"  Christ  disputing  with  the  Doctors,"  by  Albert 
Diirer,  in  which  was  represented  the  ugliest,  most 
evil-minded,  stubborn,  pragmatical,  and  contentious 
old  Jew  that  ever  lived  under  the  law  of  Moses ;  and 
he  and  the  child  Jesus  were  arguing,  not  only  with 
their  tongues,  but  making  hieroglyphics,  as  it  were, 
by  the  motion  of  their  hands  and  fingers.  It  is  a  very 
queer,  as  well  as  a  very  remarkable  picture.  But  we 
passed  hastily  by  this,  and  almost  all  others,  being 
eager  to  see  the  two  which  chiefly  make  the  collection 
famous,  —  Raphael's  Fornarina,  and  Guide's  portrait  of 
Beatrice  Cenci.  These  were  found  in  the  last  of  the 
three  rooms,  and  as  regards  Beatrice  Cenci,  I  might  as 
well  not  try  to  say  anything ;  for  its  spell  is  indefina 
ble,  and  the  painter  has  wrought  it  in  a  way  more 

like  magic  than  anything  else 

It  is  the  most  profoundly  wrought  picture  in  the 
world ;  no  artist  did  it,  nor  could  do  it  again.  Guido 
may  have  held  the  brush,  but  he  painted  better  than 


90  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858 

be  knew.  I  wish,  however  it  were  possible  for  some 
spectator,  of  deep  sensibility,  to  see  the  picture  with 
out  knowing  anything  of  its  subject  or  history ;  for, 
no  doubt,  we  bring  all  our  knowledge  of  the  Cenci 
tragedy  to  the  interpretation  of  it. 

Close  beside  Beatrice  Cenci  hangs  the  Forna- 
riua 

While  we  were  looking  at  these  works  Miss  M 

unexpectedly  joined  us,  and  we  went,  all  three  to 
gether,  to  the  Rospigliosi  Palace,  in  the  Piazza  di 
Monte  Cavallo.  A  porter,  in  cocked  hat,  and  with  a 
staff  of  office,  admitted  us  into  a  spacious  court  be 
fore  the  palace,  and  directed  us  to  a  garden  on  one 
side,  raised  as  much  as  twenty  feet  abdve  the  level  on 
which  we  stood.  The  gardener  opened  the  gate  for 
us,  and  we  ascended  a  beautiful  stone  staircase,  with 
a  carved  balustrade,  bearing  many  marks  of  time  and 
weather.  Reaching  the  garden-level,  we  found  it  lard 
out  in  walks,  bordered  with  box  and  ornamental 
shrubbery,  amid  which  were  lemon-trees,  and  one 
large  old  exotic  from  some  distant  clime.  In  the 
centre  of  the  garden,  surrounded  by  a  stone  balus 
trade,  like  that  of  the  staircase,  was  a  fish-pond,  into 
which  several  jets  of  water  were  continually  spouting ; 
and  on  pedestals,  that  made  part  of  the  balusters, 
stood  eight  marble  statues  of  Apollo,  Cupid,  nymphs, 
and  other  such  sunny  and  beautiful  people  of  classic 
mytholog}r.  There  had  been  many  more  of  these 
statues,  but  the  rest  had  disappeared,  and  those  which 
remained  had  suffered  grievous  damage,  here  to  a 
nose,  there  to  a  hand  or  foot,  and  often  a  fracture  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  91 

the  body,  very  imperfectly  mended.  There  was  a 
pleasant  sunshine  in  the  garden,  and  a  springlike,  or 
rather  a  genial,  autumnal  atmosphere,  though  else 
where  it  was  a  day  of  poisonous  Roman  chill. 

At  the  end  of  the  garden,  which  was  of  no  great 
extent,  was  an  edifice,  bordering  on  the  piazza,  called 
the  Casino,  which,  I  presume,  means  a  garden-house. 
The  front  is  richly  ornamented  with  bas-reliefs, 
and  statues  in  niches ;  as  if  it  were  a  place  for 
pleasure  and  enjoyment,  and  therefore  ought  to  be 
beautiful.  As  we  approached  it,  the  door  swung 
open,  and  we  went  into  a  large  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  and,  looking  up  to  the  ceiling,  beheld  Guido's 
Aurora.  The  picture  is  as  fresh  and  brilliant  as  if 
he  had  painted  it  with  the  morning  sunshine  which  it 
represents.  It  could  not  be  more  lustrous  in  its 
hues,  if  he  had  given  it  the  last  touch  an  hour  ago. 
Three  or  four  artists  were  copying  it  at  that  instant, 
and  positively  their  colors  did  not  look  brighter, 
though  a  great  deal  newer  than  his.  The  alacrity 
and  movement,  briskness  and  morning  stir  and  glow 
of  the  picture  are  wonderful.  It  seems  impossible  to 
catch  its  glory  in  a  copy.  Several  artists,  as  I  said, 
were  making  the  attempt,  and  we  saw  two  other 
attempted  copies  leaning  against  the  wall,  but  it 
was  easy  to  detect  failure  in  just  essential  points. 
My  memory,  I  believe,  will  be  somewhat  enlivened 
by  this  picture  hereafter  :  not  that  I  remember  it  very 
distinctly  even  now ;  but  bright  things  leave  a  sheen 
and  glimmer  in  the  mind,  like  Christian's  tremulous 
glimpse  of  the  Celestial  City. 


92  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

In  two  other  rooms  of  the  Casino  we  saw  pictures 
by  Domenichino,  Rubens,  and  other  famous  painters, 
which  I  do  not  mean  to  speak  of,  because  I  cared 
really  little  or  nothing  about  them.  Returning  into 
the  garden,  the  sunny  warmth  of  which  was  most 
grateful  after  the  chill  air  and  cold  pavement  of  the 
Casino,  we  walked  round  the  laguna,  examining  the 
statues,  and  looking  down  at  some  little  fishes  that 
swarmed  at  the  stone  margin  of  the  pool.  There 
were  two  infants  of  the  Rospigliosi  family  :  one,  a 
young  child  playing  with  a  maid  and  head-servant ; 
another,  the  very  chubbiest  and  rosiest  boy  in  the 
world,  sleeping  on  its  nurse's  bosom.  The  nurse  was 
a  comely  woman  enough,  dressed  in  bright  colors, 
which  fitly  set  off  the  deep  hues  of  her  Italian  face. 
An  old  painter  very  likely  would  have  beautified  and 
refined  the  pair  into  a  Madonna,  with  the  child  Jesus ; 
for  an  artist  need  not  go  far  in  Italy  to  find  a  picture 
ready  composed  and  tinted,  needing  littte  more  than 
to  be  literally  copied. 

Miss  M had  gone  away  before  us  ;  but  my  wife 

and  I,  after  leaving  the  Palazzo  Rospigliosi,  and  on 
our  way  home,  went  into  the  Church  of  St.  Andrea, 
which  belongs  to  a  convent  of  Jesuits.  I  have  long 
ago  exhausted  all  my  capacity  of  admiration  for  splen 
did  interiors  of  churches,  but  methinks  this  little,  little? 
temple  (it  is  not  more  than  fifty  or  sixty  feet  across)  has. 
a  more  perfect  and  gem-like  beauty  than  any  other. 
Its  shape  is  oval,  with  an  oval  dome,  and,  above  that, 
another  little  dome,  both  of  which  are  magnificently 
frescoed.  Around  the  base  of  the  larger  dome  i» 


1858.]  ITALY.  93 

wreathed  a  flight  of  angels,  and  the  smaller  and 
upper  one  is  encircled  by  a  garland  of  cherubs,  —— 
cherub  and  angel  all  of  pure  white  marble.  The 
oval  centre  of  the  church  is  walled  round  with  pre 
cious  and  lustrous  marble  of  a  red-veined  variety 
interspersed  with  columns  and  pilasters  of  white ; 
and  there  are  arches  opening  through  this  rich  wall, 
forming  chapels,  which  the  architect  seems  to  have 
striven  hard  to  make  even  more  gorgeous  than  the 
main  body  of  the  church.  They  contain  beautiful 
pictures,  not  dark  and  faded,  but  glowing,  as  if  just 
from  the  painters  hands ;  and  the  shrines  are  adorned 
with  whatever  is  most  rare,  and  in  one  of  them  was 
the  great  carbuncle ;  at  any  rate,  a  bright,  fiery  gem 
as  big  as  a  turkey's  egg.  The  pavement  of  the 
church  was  one  star  of  various-colored  marble,  and 
in  the  centre  was  a  mosaic,  covering,  I  believe,  the 
tomb  of  the  founder.  I  have  not  seen,  nor  expect 
to  see,  anything  else  so  entirely  and  satisfactorily 
finished  as  this  small  oval  church ;  and  I  only  wish 
I  could  pack  it  in  a  large  box,  and  send  it  home. 

I  must  not  forget  that,  on  our  way  from  the  Bar- 
berini  Palace,  we  stopped  an  instant  to  look  at  the 
house,  at  the  corner  of  the  street  of  the  four  fountains, 
where  Milton  was  a  guest  while  in  Rome.  He  seems 
quite  a  man  of  our  own  day,  seen  so  nearly  at  the 
hither  extremity  of  the  vista  through  which  we  look 
back,  from  the  epoch  of  railways  to  that  of  the  oldest 
Egyptian  obelisk.  The  house  (it  was  then  occupied 
by  the  Cardinal  Barbcrini)  looks  as  if  it  might  have 
been  built  within  the  present  century  ;  for  mediaeval 


94  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

houses  in  Rome  do  not  assume  the  aspect  of  antiq 
uity  ;  perhaps  because  the  Italian  style  of  architec 
ture,  or  something  similar,  is  the  one  more  generally 
in  vogue  in  most  cities. 

February  2lst.  —  This  morning  I  took  my  way 
through  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  intending  to  spend 
the  forenoon  in  the  Campagna  ;  but,  getting  weary  of 
the  straight,  uninteresting  street  that  runs  out  of  the 
gate,  I  turned  aside  from  it,  and  soon  found  myself 
on  the  shores  of  the  Tiber.  It  looked,  as  usual,  like  a 
saturated  solution  of  yellow  mud,  and  eddied  hastily 
along  between  deep  banks  of  clay,  and  over  a  clay 
bed,  in  which  .  doubtless  are  hidden  many  a  richer 
treasure  than  we  now  possess.  The  French  once 
proposed  to  draw  off  the  river,  for  the  purpose  of  re 
covering  all  the  sunken  statues  and  relics ;  but  the 
Romans  made  strenuous  objection,  on  account  of  the 
increased  virulence  of  malaria  which  would  probably 
result.  I  saw  a  man  on  the  immediate  shore  of  the 
river,  fifty  feet  or  so  beneath  the  bank  on  which  I 
stood,  sitting  patiently,  with  an  angling  rod ;  and  I 
waited  to  see  what  he  might  catch.  Two  other  per 
sons  likewise  sat  down  to  watch  him ;  but  he  caught 
nothing  so  long  as  I  stayed,  and  at  last  seemed  to 
give  it  up.  The  banks  and  vicinity  of  the  river  are 
very  bare  and  uninviting,  as  I  then  saw  them  ;  no 
shade,  no  verdure,  —  a  rough,  neglected  aspect,  and  a 
peculiar  shabbiness  about  the  few  houses  that  were 
visible.  Farther  down  the  stream  the  dome  of  St. 
Peter's  showed  itself  on  the  other  side,  seeming  to 
stand  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  I  walked  along 


1858.]  ITALY.  95 

the  banks,  with  some  expectation  of  finding  a  ferry, 
by  which  I  might  cross  the  river ;  but  my  course  was 
soon  interrupted  by  the  wall,  and  I  turned  up  a  lane 
that  led  me  straight  back  again  to  the  Porta  del 
Popolo.  I  stopped  a  moment,  however,  to  see  some 
young  men  pitching  quoits,  which  they  appeared  to 
do  with  a  good  deal  of  skill. 

I  went  along  the  Via  di  Ripetta,  and  through  other 
streets,  stepping  into  two  or  three  churches,  one  of 
which  was  the  Pantheon 

There  are,  I  think,  seven  deep,  pillared  recesses 
around  the  circumference  of  it,  each  of  which  becomes 
a  sufficiently  capacious  chapel ;  and  alternately  with 
these  chapels  there  is  a  marble  structure,  like  the 
architecture  of  a  doorway,  beneath  which  is  the  shrine 
of  a  saint ;  so  that  the  whole  circle  of  the  Pantheon  is 
filled  up  with  the  seven  chapels  and  seven  shrines. 
A  number  of  persons  were  sitting  or  kneeling  around ; 
others  came  in  while  I  was  there,  dipping  their  fin 
gers  in  the  holy  water,  and  bending  the  knee,  as  they 
passed  the  shrines  and  chapels,  until  they  reached  the 
one  which,  apparently,  they  had  selected  as  the  par 
ticular  altar  for  their  devotions.  Everybody  seemed 
so  devout,  and  in  a  frame  of  mind  so  suited  to  the 
day  and  place,  that  it  really  made  me  feel  a  little 
awkward  not  to  be  able  to  kneel  down  along  with 
them..  Unlike  the  worshippers  in  our  own  churches, 
each  individual  here  seems  to  do  his  own  individual 
acts  of  devotion,  and  I  cannot  but  think  it  better  so 
than  to  make  an  effort  for  united  prayer  as  we  do.  It 
is  my  opinion  that  a  great  deal  of  devout  and  reveren- 


96  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

tial  feeling  is  kept  alive  in  people's  hearts  by  tho 
Catholic  mode  of  worship. 

Soon  leaving  the  Pantheon,  a  few  minutes'  walk 
towards  the  Corso  brought  me  to  the  Church  of  St. 
Ignazio,  which  belongs  to  the  College  of  the  Jesuits. 
It  is  spacious  and  of  beautiful  architecture,  but  not 
strikingly  distinguished,  in  the  latter  particular,  from 
many  others ;  a  wide  and  lofty  nave,  supported  upon 
marble  columns,  between  which  arches  open  into  the 
side-aisles,  and  at  the  junction  of  the  nave  and  tran 
sept  a  dome,  resting  on  four  great  arches.  T.he 
church  seemed  to  be  purposely  somewhat  darkened, 
so  that  I  could  not  well  see  the  details  of  the  orna 
mentation,  except  the  frescos  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
nave,  which  were  very  brilliant,  and  done  in  so  effec 
tual  a  style,  that  I  really  could  not  satisfy  myself  that 
some  of  the  figures  did  not  actually  protrude  from  the 
ceiling,  — in  short,  that  they  were  not  colored  bas-re 
liefs,  instead  of  frescos.  N  o  -words  can  express  the 
beautiful  effect,  in  an  upholstery  point  of  view,  of  this 
kind  of  decoration.  Here,  as  at  the  Pantheon,  there 
were  many  persons  sitting  silent,  kneeling,  or  passing 
from  shrine  to  shrine. 

I  reached  home  at  about  twelve,  and,  at  one,  set 
out  again,  with  my  wife,  towards  St.  Peter's,  where  we 
meant  to  stay  till  after  vespers.  We  walked  across 
the  city,  and  through  the  Piazza  de  Navona,  whejre  we 
stopped  to  look  at  one  of  Bernini's  absurd  fountains, 
of  which  the  water  makes  but  the  smallest  part,  —  a 
little  squirt  or  two  amid  a  prodigious  fuss  of  gods  and 
monsters.  Thence  we  passed  by  the  poor,  battered- 


1858.]  ITALY.  97 

down  torso  of  Pasquin,  and  came,  by  devious  ways,  to 
the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo;  the  streets  bearing  pretty 
much  their  week-day  aspect,  many  of  the  shops  open, 
the  market-stalls  doing  their  usual  business,  and  the 
people  brisk  and  gay,  though  not  indecorously  so.  I 
suppose  there  was  hardly  a  man  or  woman  who  had 
not  heard  mass,  confessed,  and  said  their  prayers ;  a 
thing  which  —  the  prayers,  I  mean  —  it  would  be  ab 
surd  to  predicate  of  London,  New  York,  or  any  Prot 
estant  city.  In  however  adulterated  a  guise,  the 
Catholics  do  get  a  draught  of  devotion  to  slake  the 
thirst  of  their  souls,  and  methinks  it  must  needs  do 
them  good,  even  if  not  quite  so  pure  as  if  it  came 
from  better  cisterns,  or  from  the  original  fountain- 
head. 

Arriving  at  St.  Peter's  shortly  after  two,  we  walked 
round  the  whole  church,  looking  at  all  the  pictures 
and  most  of  the  monuments,  ....  and  paused  lon 
gest  before  Guido's  "  Archangel  Michael  overcoming 
Lucifer."  This  is  surely  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
things  in  the  world,  one  of  the  human  conceptions 
that  are  imbued  most  deeply  with  the  celestial 

We  then  sat  down  in  one  of  the  aisles  and  awaited 
the  beginning  of  vespers,  which  we  supposed  would 
take  place  at  half  past  three.  Four  o'clock  came, 
however,  and  no  vespers  ;  and  as  our  dinner  hour  is 
five,  ....  we  at  last  came  away  without  hearing  the 
vesper  hymn. 

February  23cZ. — Yesterday,  at  noon,  we  set  out  for 
the  Capitol,  and  after  going  up  the.  acclivity  (not  from 
the  Forum,  but  from  the  opposite  direction),  stopped 

VOL.  i.  5  o 


98  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

to  look  at  the  statues  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  which, 
with  other  sculptures,  look  down  the  ascent.  Castor 
and  his  brother  seem  to  me  to  have  heads  dispropor 
tionately  large,  and  are  not  so  striking,  in  any  respect, 
as  such  great  images  ought  to  be.  But  we  heartily 
admired  the  equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
Antoninus,  ....  and  looked  at  a  fountain,  principally 
composed,  I  think,  of  figures  representing  the  Nile  and 
the  Tiber,  who  loll  upon  their  elbows  and  preside  over 
the  gushing  water ;  and  between  them,  against  the 
fagade  of  the  Senator's  Palace,  there  is  a  statue  of 
Minerva,  with  a  petticoat  of  red  porphyry.  Having 
taken  note  of  these  objects,  we  went  to  the  Museum, 
in  an  edifice  on  our  left,  entering  the  piazza,  and  here, 
in  the  vestibule,  we  found  various  old  statues  and 
relics.  Ascending  the  stairs,  we  passed  through  a 
long  gallery,  and,  turning  to  our  left,  examined  some 
what  more  carefully  a  suite  of  rooms  running  parallel 
with  it.  The  first  of  these  contained  busts  of  the 
Csesars  and  their  kindred,  from  the  epoch  of  the 
mightiest  Julius  downward ;  eighty-three,  I  believe,  in 
all.  I  had  seen  a  bust  of  Julius  Caesar  in  the  British 
Museum,  and  was  surprised  at  its  thin  and  withered 
aspect;  but  this  head  is  of  a  very  ugly  old  man  indeed, 
—  wrinkled,  puckered,  shrunken,  lacking  breadth  and 
substance  ;  careworn,  grim,  as  if  he  had  fought  hard 
with  life,  and  had  suffered  in  the  conflict ;  a  man  of 
schemes,  and  of  eager  effort  to  bring  his  schemes  to 
pass.  His  profile  is  by  no  means  good,  advancing 
from  the  top  of  his  forehead  to  the  tip  of  his  nose,  and 
retreating,  at  about  the  same  angle,  from  the  latter 


ITALY.  99 


point  to  the  bottom  of  his  chin,  which  seems  to  be 
thrust  forcibly  down  into  his  meagre  neck,  —  not  that 
he  pokes  his  head  forward,  however,  for  it  is  partic 
ularly  erect. 

The  head  of  Augustus  is  very  beautiful,  and  appears 
to  be  that  of  a  meditative,  philosophic  man,  sad 
dened  with  the  sense  that  it  is  not  very  much  worth 
while  to  be  at  the  summit  of  human  greatness  after  all. 
It  is  a  sorrowful  thing  to  trace  the  decay  of  civilization 
through  this  series  of  busts,  and  to  observe  how  the 
artistic  skill,  so  requisite  at  first,  went  on  declining 
through  the  dreary  dynasty  of  the  Csesars,  till  at 
length  the  master  of  the  world  could  not  get  his  head 
carved  in  better  style  than  the  figure-head  of  a  ship. 

In  the  next  room  there  were  better  statues  than  we 
had  yet  seen  ;  but  in  the  last  room  of  the  range  we 
found  the  "  Dying  Gladiator,"  of  which  I  had  already 
caught  a  glimpse  in  passing  by  the  open  door.  It  had 
made  all  the  other  treasures  of  the  gallery  tedious  in 
my  eagerness  to  come  to  that.  I  do  not  believe  that 
so  much  pathos  is  wrought  into  any  other  block  of 
stone.  Like  all  works  of  the  highest  excellence,  how 
ever,  it  makes  great  demands  upon  the  spectator. 
He  must  make  a  generous  gift  of  his  sympathies  to 
the  sculptor,  and  help  out  his  skill  with  all  his  heart, 
or  else  he  will  see  little  more  than  a  skilfully  wrought 
surface.  It  suggests  far  more  than  it  shows.  I  looked 
long  at  this  statue,  and  little  at  anything  else,  though, 
among  other  famous  works,  a  statue  of  Antinoiis  was 
in  the  same  room. 

I  was  glad  when  we  left  the  museum,  which,  by  the 


100  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

by,  was  piercingly  chill,  as  if  the  multitude  of  statues 
radiated  cold  out  of  their  marble  substance.  We 
might  have  gone  to  see  the  pictures  in  the  Paiace  of 

the    Conservator!,    and    S ,    whose    receptivity   is 

unlimited  and  forever  fresh,  would  willingly  have 
done  so  ;  but  I  objected,  and  we  went  towards  the 
Forum.  I  had  noticed,  two  or  three  times,  an  in 
scription  over  a  mean-looking  door  in  this  neighbor 
hood,  stating  that  here  was  the  entrance  to  the  prison 
of  the  holy  apostles,  Peter  and  Paul ;  and  we  soon 
found  the  spot,  not  far  from  the  Forum,  with  two 
wretched  frescos  of  the  apostles  above  the  inscription. 
We  knocked  at  the  door  without  effect ;  but  a  lame 
beggar,  who  sat  at  another  door  of  the  same  house 
(which  looked  exceedingly  like  a  liquor  shop),  desired 
us  to  follow  him,  and  began  to  ascend  to  the  Capitol, 
by  the  causeway  leading  from  the  Forum.  A  little 
way  upward  we  met  a  woman,  to  whom  the  beggar 
delivered  us  over,  and  she  led  us  into  a  church  or 
chapel  door,  and  pointed  to  a  long  flight  of  steps, 
which  descended  through  twilight  into  utter  darkness. 
She  called  to  somebody  in  the  lower  regions,  and  then 
went  away,  leaving  us  to  get  down  this  mysterious 
staircase  by  ourselves.  Down  we  went,  farther  and 
farther  from  the  daylight,  and  found  ourselves,  anon, 
in  a  dark  chamber  or  cell,  the  shape  or  boundaries  of 
which  we  could  not  make  out,  though  it  seemed  to  be 
of  stone,  and  black  and  dungeon-like.  Indistinctly, 
and  from  a  still  farther  depth  in  the  earth,  we  heard 
voices,  —  one  voice,  at  least,  —  apparently  not  address 
ing  ourselves,  but  some  other  persons ;  and  soon,  directly 


1858.]  ITALY.  101 

beneath  our  feet,  we  saw  a  glimmering  of  light 
through  a  round,  iron-grated  hole  in  the  bottom  of 
the  dungeon.  In  a  few  moments  the  glimmer  and 
the  voice  came  up  through  this  hole,  and  the  light 
disappeared,  and  it  and  the  voice  came  glimmering 
and  babbling  up  a  flight  of  stone  stairs,  of  which  we 
had  not  hitherto  been  aware.  It  was  the  custode, 
with  a  party  of  visitors,  to  whom  he  had  been  showing 
St.  Peter's  dungeon.  Each  visitor  was  provided  with 
a  wax  taper,  and  the  custode  gave  one  to  each  of  us, 
bidding  us  wait  a  moment  while  he  conducted  the 
other  party  to  the  upper  air.  During  his  absence  we 
examined  the  cell,  as  well  as  our  dim  lights  would 
permit,  and  soon  found  an  indentation  in  the  wall, 
with  an  iron  grate  put  over  it  for  protection,  and  an 
inscription  above  informing  us  that  the  Apostle  Peter 
had  here  left  the  imprint  of  his  visage  ;  and,  in  truth, 
there  is  a  profile  there,  —  forehead,  nose,  mouth,  and 
chin,  —  plainly  to  be  seen,  an  intaglio  in  the  solid  rock. 
We  touched  it  with  the  tips  of  our  fingers,  as  well  as 
saw  it  with  our  eyes. 

The  custode  soon  returned,  and  led  us  down  the 
darksome  steps,  chattering  in  Italian  all  the  time. 
It  is  not  a  very  long  descent  to  the  lower  cell,  the 
roof  of  which  is  so  low  that  I  believe  I  could  have 
reached  it  with  my  hand.  We  were  now  in  the 
deepest  and  ugliest  part  of  the  old  Maroertine  Prison, 
one  of  the  few  remains  of  the  kingly  period  of  Rome, 
and  which  served  the  Romans  as  a  state  prison  for 
hundreds  of  years  before  the  Christian  era.  A  multi 
tude  of  criminals  or  innocent  persons,  no  doubt,  have 


102  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

languished  here  in  misery,  and  perished  in  darkness. 
Here  Jugurtha  starved ;  here  Catiline's  adherents 
were  strangled  ;  and,  methinks,  there  cannot  be  in 
the  world  another  such  an  evil  den,  so  haunted  with 
black  memories  and  indistinct  surmises  of  guilt  and 
Buffering.  In  old  Rome,  I  suppose,  the  citizens  never 
spoke  of  this  dungeon  above  their  breath.  It  looks 
just  as  bad  as  it  is;  round,  only  seven  paces  across, 
yet  so  obscure  that  our  tapers  could  not  illuminate  it 
from  side  to  side,  —  the  stones  of  which  it  is  con 
structed  being  as  black  as  midnight.  The  custode 
showed  us  a  stone  post,  at  the  side  of  the  cell,  with 
the  hole  in  the  top  of  it,  into  which,  he  said,  St. 
Peter's  chain  had  been  fastened ;  and  he  uncovered 
a  spring  of  water,  in  the  middle  of  the  stone  floor, 
which  he  told  us  had  miraculously  gushed  up  to 
enable  the  saint  to  baptize  his  jailer.  The  miracle 
was  perhaps  the  more  easily  wrought,  inasmuch  as 
Jugurtha  had  found  the  floor  of  the  dungeon  oozy 
with  wet.  However,  it  is  best  to  be  as  simple  and 
childlike  as  we  can  in  these  matters  ;  and  whether 
St.  Peter  stamped  his  visage  into  the  stone,  and 
wrought  this  other  miracle  or  no,  and  whether  or  no 
he  ever  was  in  the  prison  at  all,  still  the  belief  of  a 
thousand  years  and  more  gives  a  sort  of  reality  and 
substance  to  such  traditions.  The  custode  dipped  an 
iron  ladle  into  the  miraculous  water,  and  we  each  of 
us  drank  a  sip  ;  and,  what  is  very  remarkable,  to  me  it 
seemed  hard  water  and  almost  brackish,  while  many 
persons  think  it  the  sweetest  in  Home.  I  suspect 
that  St.  Peter  still  dabbles  in  this  water,  and  tempers 


1853.]  ITALY.  103 

its  qualities  according  to  the  faith  of  those  who 
drink  it. 

The  staircase  descending  into  the  lower  dungeon  is 
comparatively  modern,  there  having  been  no  entrance 
of  old,  except  through  the  small  circular  opening  in 
the  roof.  In  the  upper  cell  the  custode  showed  us  an 
ancient  flight  of  stairs,  now  built  into  the  wall,  which 
used  to  lead  from  the  Capitol.  The  whole  precincts 
are  now  consecrated,  and  I  believe  the  upper  portion, 
perhaps  both  upper  and  lower,  are  a  shrine  or  a  chapel. 

I  now  left  S in  the  Forum,  and  went  to  call  on 

Mr.  J.  P.  K at  the  Hotel  d' Europe.  I  found  him 

just  returned  from  a  drive,  —  a  gentleman  of  about 
sixty,  or  more,  with  gray  hair,  a  pleasant,  intellectual 
face,  and  penetrating,  but  not  unkindly  eyes.  He 
moved  infirmly,  being  on  the  recovery  from  an  illness. 
We  went  up  to  his  saloon  together,  and  had  a  talk,  —  or, 
rather,  he  had  it  nearly  all  to  himself,  —  and  particu 
larly  sensible  talk,  too,  and  full  of  the  results  of  learn 
ing  and  experience.  In  the  first  place,  he  settled  the 
whole  Kansas  difficulty ;  then  he  made  havoc  of  St. 
Peter,  who  came  very  shabbily  out  of  his  hands,  as 
regarded  his  early  character  in  the  Church,  and  his 

claims  to  the  position  he  now  holds  in  it.  Mr.  K 

also  gave  a  curious  illustration,  from  something  that 
happened  to  himself,  of  the  little  dependence  that  can 
be  placed  on  tradition  purporting  to  be  ancient,  and  I 
capped  his  story  by  telling  him  how  the  site  of  my 
town  pump,  so  plainly  indicated  in  the  sketch  itself, 
has  already  been  mistaken  in  the  city  council  and  in 
the  public  prints. 


104  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

February  24:tk.  —  Yesterday  I  crossed  the  Ponte 
Sisto,  and  took  a  short  ramble  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river ;  and  it  rather  surprised  me  to  discover,  pretty 
nearly  opposite  the  Capitoline  Hill,  a  quay,  at  which 
several  schooners  and  barks,  of  two  or  three  hundred 
tons'  burden,  were  moored.  There  was  also  a  steamer, 
armed  with  a  large  gun  and  two  brass  swivels  on  her 
forecastle,  and  I  know  not  what  artillery  besides. 
Probably  she  may  have  been  a  revenue-cutter. 

Returning  I  crossed  the  river  by  way  of  the  island 
of  St.  Bartholomew  over  two  bridges.  The  island  is 
densely  covered  with  buildings,  and  is  a  separate 
small  fragment  of  the  city.  It  was  a  tradition  of  the 
ancient  Romans  that  it  was  formed  by  the  aggregation 
of  soil  and  rubbish  brought  down  by  the  river,  and 
accumulating  round  the  nucleus  of  some  sunken 
baskets. 

On  reaching  the  hither  side  of  the  river,  I  soon 
struck  upon  the  ruins  of  the  theatre  of  Marccllus, 
which  are  very  picturesque,  and  the  more  so  from 
being  closely  linked  in,  indeed,  identified  with  the 
shops,  habitations,  and  swarming  life  of  modern  Rome. 
The  most  striking  portion  was  a  circular  edifice,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  composed  of  a  row  of  Ionic  col 
umns,  standing  upon  a  lower  row  of  Doric,  many  of 
the  antique  pillars  being  yet  perfect ;  but  the  inter 
vening  arches  -built  up  with  brickwork,  and  the  whole 
once  magnificent  structure  now  tenanted  by  poor  and 
squalid  people,  as  thick  as  mites  within  the  round  of 
an  old  cheese.  From  this  point  I  cannot  very  clearly 
trace  out  my  course ;  but  I  passed,  I  think,  between 


1858.]  ITALY.  105 

the  Circus  Maximus  and  the  Palace  of  the  Csesars, 
and  near  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  and  went  into  the 
cloisters  of  the  Church  of  San  Gregorio.  All  along  I 
saw  massive  ruins,  riot  particularly  picturesque  or 
beautiful,  but  huge,  mountainous  piles,  chiefly  of 
brickwork,  somewhat  weed-grown  here  and  there,  but 

oftener   bare  and    dreary All   the    successive 

ages  since  Rome  began  to  decay  have  done  their  best 
to  ruin  the  very  ruins  by  taking  away  the  marble  and 
the  hewn  stone  for  their  own  structures,  and  leaving 
only  the  inner  filling  up  of  brickwork,  which  the  ancient 
architects  never  designed  to  be  seen.  The  consequence 
of  all  this  is,  that,  except  for  the  lofty  and  poetical 
associations  connected  with  it,  and  except,  too,  for  the 
immense  difference  in  magnitude,  a  Roman  ruin  may 
be  in  itself  not  more  picturesque  than  I  have  seen 
an  old  cellar,  with  a  shattered  brick  chimney  half 
crumbling  down  into  it,  in  New  England. 

By  this  time  I  knew  not  whither  I  was  going,  and 
turned  aside  from  a  broad,  paved  road  (it  was  the 
Appian  Way)  into  the  Via  Latina,  which  I  supposed 
would  lead  to  one  of  the  city  gates.  It  was  a  lonely 
path  :  on  my  right  hand  extensive  piles  of  ruin,  in 
strange  shapes  or  shapelessness,  built  of  the  broad  and 
thin  old  Roman  bricks,  such  as  may  be  traced  every 
where,  when  the  stucco  has  fallen  away  from  a  mod 
ern  Roman  house  ;  for  I  imagine  there  has  not  been  a 
new  brick  made  here  for  a  thousand  years.  On  my 
left,  I  think,  was  a  high  wall,  and  before  me,  grazing 
in  the  road  ....  [the  buffalo  calf  of  the  Marble  Faun. 
—  ED.].  The  road  went  boldly  on,  with  a  well-worn 
5* 


106  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l85S. 

track  up  to  the  very  walls  of  the  city ;  but  there  ic 
abruptly  terminated  at  an  ancient,  closed-up  gateway. 
From  a  notice  posted  against  a  door,  which  appeared 
to  be  the  entrance  to  the  niins  on  my  left,  I  found 
that  these  were  the  remains  of  Columbaria,  where  the 
dead  used  to  be  put  away  in  pigeon-holes.  Reaching 
the  paved  road  again,  I  kept  on  my  course,  passing 
the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  and  soon  came  to  the  gate 
of  San  Sebastiano,  through  which  I  entered  the 
Campagna.  Indeed,  the  scene  around  was  so  rural, 
that  I  had  fancied  myself  already  beyond  the  walls. 
As  the  afternoon  was  getting  advanced,  I  did  not 
proceed  any  farther  towards  the  blue  hills  which  I 
saw  in  the  distance,  but  turned  to  my  left,  following 
a  road  that  runs  round  the  exterior  of  the  city  wall. 
It  was  very  dreary  and  solitary,  —  not  a  house  on  the 
whole  track,  with  the  broad  and  shaggy  Campagna  on 
one  side,  and  the  high,  bare  wall,  looking  down  over 
my  head,  on  the  other.  It  is  not,  any  more  than  the 
other  objects  of  the  scene,  a  very  picturesque  wall,  but 
is  little  more  than  a  brick  garden-fence  seen  through 
a  magnifying-glass,  with  now  and  then  a  tower,  how 
ever,  and  frequent  buttresses,  to  keep  its  height  of 
fifty  feet  from  toppling  ower.  The  top  was  ragged, 
and  fringed  with  a  few  weeds  ;  there  had  been  embra 
sures  for  guns  and  eyelet  holes  for  musketry,  but 
these  were  plastered  up  with  brick  or  stone.  I  passed 
one  or  two  walled-up  gateways  (by  the  by,  the  Porta 
Latina  was  the  gate  through  which  Belisarius  first 
entered  Rome),  and  one  of  these  had  two  high,  round 
towers,  and  locked  more  Gothic  and  venerable  with 


1556.]  ITALY.  107 

antique  strength  than  any  other  portion  of  the  wall. 
Immediately  after  this  I  came  to  the  gate  of  San 
Giovanni,  just  within  which  is  the  Basilica  of  St.  John 
Lateran,  and  there  I  was  glad  to  rest  myself  upon  a 
bench  before  proceeding  homeward. 

There  was  a  French  sentinel  at  this  gateway,  as  at 
all  the  others ;  for  the  Gauls  have  always  been  a  pest 
to  Rome,  and  now  gall  her  worse  than  ever.  I  ob 
served,  too,  that  an  official,  in  citizen's  dress,  stood 
there  also,  and  appeared  to  exercise  a  supervision  over 
some  carts  with  country  produce,  that  were  entering 
just  then. 

February  2otk,  —  We  went  this  forenoon  to  the 
Palazzo  Borghese,  which  is  situated  on  a  street  that 
runs  at  right  angles  with  the  Corso,  and  very  near 
the  latter.  Most  of  the  palaces  hi  Rome,  and  the 
Borghese  among  them,  were  built  somewhere  about 
the  sixteenth  century ;  this  in  1590,  I  believe.  It  is 
an  immense  edifice,  standing  round  the  four  sides  of- 
a  quadrangle ;  and  though  the  suite  of  rooms  com 
prising  the  picture-gallery  forms  an  almost  intermi 
nable  vista,  they  occupy  only  a  part  of  the  ground  floor 
of  one  side.  We  enter  from  the  street  into  a  large 
court,  surrounded  with  a  corridor,  the  arches  of  which 
support  a  second  series  of  arches  above.  The  picture- 
rooms  open  from  one  into  another,  and  have  many 
points  of  magnificence,  being  large  and  lofty,  with 
vaulted  ceilings  and  beautiful  frescos,  generally  of 
mythological  subjects,  hi  the  flat  central  part  of  the 
vault.  The  cornices  are  gilded ;  the  deep  embrasures 
of  the  windows  are  panelled  with  wood-work ;  the 


108  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

doorways  are  of  polished  and  variegated  marble,  or 
covered  with  a  composition  as  hard,  and  seemingly  as 
durable.  The  whole  has  a  kind  of  splendid  shabbi- 
ness  thrown  over  it,  like  a  slight  coating  of  rust ;  tho 
furniture,  at  least  the  damask  chairs,  being  a  good 
deal  worn,  though  there  are  marble  and  mosaic  tables, 
which  may  serve  to  adorn  another  palace  when  this 
one  crumbles  away  with  age.  One  beautiful  hall, 
with  a  ceiling  more  richly  gilded  than  the  rest,  is 
panelled  all  round  with  large  looking-glasses,  on  which 
are  painted  pictures,  both  landscapes  and  human  fig 
ures,  in  oils ;  so  that  the  effect  is  somewhat  as  if  you 
saw  these  objects  represented  in  the  mirrors.  These 
glasses  must  be  of  old  date,  perhaps  coeval  with  the 
first  building  of  the  palace ;  for  they  are  so  much 
dimmed,  that  one's  own  figure  appears  indistinct  in 
them,  and  more  difficult  to  be  traced  than  the  pictures 
which  cover  them  half  over.  It  was  very  comfortless, 
—  indeed,  I  suppose  nobody  ever  thought  of  being 
comfortable  there,  since  the  house  was  built,  —  but 
especially  uncomfortable  on  a  chill,  damp  day  like 
this.  My  fingers  were  quite  numb  before  I  got  half 
way  through  the  suite  of  apartments,  in  spite  of  a 
brazier  of  charcoal  which  was  smouldering  into  ashes 
in  two  or  three  of  the  rooms.  There  was  not,  so  far 
as  I  remember,  a  single  fireplace  in  the  suite.  A  con 
siderable  number  of  visitors  —  not  many,  however  — 
were  there  ;  and  a  good  many  artists  ;  and  three  or  four 
ladies  among  them  were  making  copies  of  the  more 
celebrated  pictures,  and  in  all  or  in  most  cases  miss 
ing  the  especial  points  that  made  their  celebrity  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  109 

value.  The  Prince  Borghese  certainly  demeans  him 
self  like  a  kind  and  liberal  gentleman,  in  throwing 
open  this  invaluable  collection  to  the  public  to  see, 
and  for  artists  to  carry  away  with  them,  and  diffuse 
all  over  the  world,  so  far  as  their  own  power  and  skill 
will  permit.  It  is  open  every  day  of  the  week,  except 
Saturday  and  Sunday,  without  any  irksome  restriction 
or  supervision  ;  and  the  fee,  which  custom  requires 
the  visitor  to  pay  to  the  custode,  has  the  good  effect 
of  making  us  feel  that  we  are  not  intruders,  nor  re 
ceived  in  an  exactly  eleemosynary  way.  The  thing 
could  not  be  better  managed. 

The  collection  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  the 
world,  and  contains  between  eight  and  nine  hundred 
pictures,  many  of  which  are  esteemed  masterpieces.  I 
think  I  was  not  in  a  frame  for  admiration  to-day,  nor 
could  achieve  that  free  and  generous  surrender  of 
myself  which  I  have  already  said  is  essential  to  the 
proper  estimate  of  anything  excellent.  Besides,  how 
is.it  possible  to  give  one's  soul,  or  any  considerable 
part  of  it,  to  a  single  picture,  seen  for  the  first  time, 
among  a  thousand  others,  all  of  which  set  forth  their 
own  claims  in  an  equally  good  light  1  Furthermore, 
there  is  an  external  weariness,  and  sense  of  a  thou 
sand-fold  sameness  to  be  overcome,  before  we  can  begin 

to  enjoy  a  gallery  of  the  old  Italian  masters 

I  remember  but  one  painter,  Francia,  who  seems 
really  to  have  approached  this  awful  class  of  subjects 
(Christs  and  Madonnas)  in  a  fitting  spirit ;  his  pic 
tures  are  very  singular  and  awkward,  if  you  look  at 
them  with  merely  an  external  eye,  but  they  are  full 


110  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

of  the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  evidently  wrought  out 
as  acts  of  devotion,  with  the  deepest  sincerity;  and 
are  veritable  prayers  upon  canvas.  .... 

I  was  glad,  in  the  very  last  of  the  twelve  rooms,  to 
come  upon  some  Dutch  and  Flemish  pictures,  very 
few,  but  very  welcome ;  Rubens,  Rembrandt,  Van 
dyke,  Paul  Potter,  Teniers,  and  others,  —  men  of  flesh 
and  blood  and  warm  fists,  and  human  hearts.  As 
compared  with  them,  these  mighty  Italian  masters 
seem  men  of  polished  steel ;  not  human,  nor  address 
ing  themselves  so  much  to  human  sympathies,  as  to 
a  formed,  intellectual  taste. 

March  1st.  —  To-day  began  very  unfavorably ;  but 
we  ventured  out  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  intending  to 
visit  the  gallery  of  the  Colonna  Palace.  Finding  it 
closed,  however,  on  account  of  the  illness  of  the  cus- 
tode,  we  determined  to  go  to  the  picture-gallery  of  the 
Capitol ;  and,  on  our  way  thither,  we  stepped  into  St. 
Gesu,  the  grand  and  rich  church  of  the  Jesuits,  where 
we  found  a  priest  in  white,  preaching  a  sermon,  with 
vast  earnestness  of  action  and  variety  of  tones,  inso 
much  that  I  fancied  sometimes  that  two  priests  were 
in  the  agony  of  sermonizing  at  once.  He  had  a  pretty 
large  and  seemingly  attentive  audience  clustered 
round  him  from  the  entrance  of  the  church,  half-way 
down  the  nave  ;  while  in  the  chapels  of  the  transepts 
and  in  the  remoter  distances  were  persons  occupied 
with  their  own  individual  devotion.  We  sat  down 
near  the  chapel  of  St.  Ignazio,  which  is  adorned  with 
a  picture  over  the  altar,  and  with  marble  sculptures 
of  the  Trinity  aloft,  and  of  angels  fluttering  at  the 


JS58.  ITALY.  Ill 

sides.  What  I  particularly  noted  (for  the  angels  were 
not  very  real  personages,  being  neither  earthly  nor 
celestial)  was  the  great  ball  of  lapis  lazuli,  the  biggest 
in  the  world,  at  the  feet  of  the  First  Person  in  the 
Trinity.  The  church  is  a  splendid  one,  lined  with  a 
great  variety  of  precious  marbles,  ....  but  partly, 
perhaps,  owing  to  the  dusky  light,  as  well  as  to  the 
want  of  cleanliness,  there  was  a  dingy  effect  upon  the 
whole.  We  made  but  a  very  short  stay,  'our  New 
England  breeding  causing  us  to  feel  shy  of  moving 
about  the  church  in  sermon  time. 

It  rained  when  we  reached  the  Capitol,  and,  as  the 
museum  was  not  yet  open,  we  went  into  the  Palace 
of  the  Conservators,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
piazza.  Around  the  inner  court  of  the  ground  floor, 
partly  under  two  opposite  arcades,  and  partly  under 
the  sky,  are  several  statues  and  other  ancient  sculp 
tures  ;  among  them  a  statue  of  Julius  Caesar,  said  to 
be  the  only  authentic  one,  and  certainly  giving  an 
impression  of  him  more  in  accordance  with  his 
character  than  the  withered  old  face  in  the  museum ; 
also,  a  statue  of  Augustus  in  middle  -age,  still  re 
taining  a  resemblance  to  the  bust  of  him  in  youth ; 
some  gigantic  heads  and  hands  and  feet  in  marble 
and  bronze  ;  a  stone  lion  and  horse,  which  lay  long 
at  the  bottom  of  a  river,  broken  and  corroded,  and 
were  repaired  by  Michel  Angelo ;  and  other  things 
which  it  were  wearisome  to  set  down.  We  inquired 
of  two  or  three  French  soldiers  the  way  into  the 
picture-gallery  ;  but  it  is  our  experience  that  French 
soldiers  in  Rome  ijever  know  anything  of  wjbat  is 


112  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

around  them,  not  even  the  name  of  the  palace  or 
public  place  over  which  they  stand  guard  j  and  though 
invariably  civil,  you  might  as  well  put  a  question  to 
a  statue  of  an  old  Roman  as  to  one  of  them.  While 
we  stood  under  the  loggia,  however,  looking  at  the 
rain  plashing  into  the  court,  a  soldier  of  the  Papal 
Guard  kindly  directed  us  up  the  staircase,  and  even 
took  pains  to  go  with  us  to  the  very  entrance  of  the 
picture-rooms.  Thank  heaven,  there  are  but  two  of 
them,  and  not  many  pictures  which  one  cares  to  look 
at  very  long. 

Italian  galleries  are  at  a  disadvantage  as  compared 
with  English  ones,  inasmuch  as  the  pictures  are  not 
nearly  such  splendid  articles  of  upholstery ;  though, 
very  likely,  having  undergone  less  cleaning  and  var 
nishing,  they  may  retain  more  perfectly  the  finer 
touches  of  the  masters.  Nevertheless,  I  miss  the 
mellow  glow,  the  rich  and  mild  external  lustre,  and 
even  the  brilliant  frames  of  the  pictures  I  have  seen 
in  England.  You  feel  that  they  have  had  loving  care 
taken  of  them  ;  even  if  spoiled,  it  is  because  they 
have  been  valued  so  much.  But  these  pictures  in 
Italian  galleries  look  rusty  and  lustreless,  as  far  as 
the  exterior  is  concerned  ;  and,  really,  the  splendor 
of  the  painting,  as  a  production  of  intellect  and 
feeling,  has  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  in  shining 
through  such  clouds. 

There  is  a  picture  at  the  Capitol,  the  "Rape  of 
Europa,"  by  Paul  Veronese,  that  would  glow  with 
wonderful  brilliancy  if  it  were  set  in  a  magnificent 
frame,  and  covered  with  a  sunshine  of  varnish ;  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  113 

it  is  a  kind  of  picture  that  would  not  be  desecrated, 
as  some  deeper  and  holier  ones  might  be,  by  any 
splendor  of  external  adornment  that  could  be  be 
stowed  on  it.  It  is  deplorable  and  disheartening  to 
see  it  in  faded  and  shabby  plight,  —  this  joyous,  exu 
berant,  warm,  voluptuous  work.  There  is  the  head 
of  a  cow,  thrust  into  the  picture,  and  staring  with 
wild,  ludicrous  wonder  at  the  godlike  bull,  so  as  to 
introduce  quite  a  new  sentiment. 

Here,  and  at  the  Borghese  Palace,  there  were  some 
pictures  by  Garofalo,  an  artist  of  whom  I  never  heard 
before,  but  who  seemed  to  have  been  a  man  of  power. 
A  picture  by  Marie  Sublegras  —  a  miniature  copy 
from  one  by  her  husband,  of  the  woman  anointing 
the  feet  of  Christ  —  is  most  delicately  and  beautifully 
finished,  and  would  be  an  ornament  to  a  drawing- 
room  ;  a  thing  that  could  not  truly  be  said  of  one  in 
a  hundred  of  these  grim  masterpieces.  When  they 
were  painted  life  was  not  what  it  is  now,  and  the 

artists   had    not   the   same   ends   in  view It 

depresses  the  spirits  to  go  from  picture  to  picture, 
leaving  a  portion  of  your  vital  sympathy  at  every 
one,  so  that  you  come,  with  a  kind  of  half-torpid 
desperation,  to  the  end.  On  our  way  down  the  stair 
case  we  saw  several  noteworthy  bas-reliefs,  and  among 
them  a  very  ancient  one  of  Curtius  plunging  on  horse 
back  into  the  chasm  in  the  Forum.  It  seems  to  me, 
however,  that  old  sculpture  affects  the  spirits  even 
more  dolefully  than  old  painting ;  it  strikes  colder  to 
the  heart,  and  lies  heavier  upon  it,  being  marble,  than 
if  it  were  merely  canvas. 

H 


114  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

My  wife  went  to  revisit  the  museum,  which  we  had 
already  seen,  on  the  other  side  of  the  piazza;  but, 
being  cold,  I  left  her  there,  and  went  out  to  ramble 
in  the  sun ;  for  it  was  now  brightly,  though  fitfully, 
shining  again.  I  walked  through  the  Forum  (where 
a  thorn  thrust  itself  out  and  tore  the  sleeve  of  my 
talma),  and  under  the  Arch  of  Titus,  towards  the 
Coliseum.  About  a  score  of  French  drummers  were 
beating  a  long,  loud  roll-call,  at  the  base  of  the 
Coliseum,  and  under  its  arches ;  and  a  score  of 
trumpeters  responded  to  these,  from  the  rising 
ground  opposite  the  Arch  of  Constantino  ;  and  the 
echoes  of  the  old  Roman  ruins,  especially  those  of 
the  Palace  of  the  Csesars,  responded  to  this  martial 
uproar  of  the  barbarians.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
cause  for  it ;  but  the  drummers  beat,  and  the  trum 
peters  blew,  as  long  as  I  was  within  hearing. 

I  walked  along  the  Appian  Way  as  far  as  the 
Baths  of  Caracalla.  The  Palace  of  the  Csesars,  which 
I  have  never  yet  explored,  appears  to  be  crowned  by 
the  walls  of  a  convent,  built,  no  doubt,  out  of  some  of 
the  fragments  that  would  suffice  to  build  a  city ;  and 
I  think  there  is  another  convent  among  the  baths. 
The  Catholics  have  taken  a  peculiar  pleasure  in 
planting  themselves  in  the  very  citadels  of  paganism, 
whether  temples  or  palaces.  There  has  been  a  good 
deal  of  enjoyment  in  the  destruction  of  old  Home.  I 
often  think  so  when  I  see  the  elaborate  pains  that 
have  been  taken  to  smash  and  demolish  some 
beautiful  column,  for  no  purpose  whatever,  except 
the  mere  delight  of  annihilating  a  noble  piece  of 


1358.]  ITALY.  115 

work.  There  is  something  in  the  impulse  with  which 
one  sympathizes  ;  though  I  am  afraid  the  destroyers 
were  not  sufficiently  aware  of  the  mischief  they  did 
to  enjoy  it  fully.  Probably,  too,  the  early  Christians 
were  impelled  by  religious  zeal  to  destroy  the  pagan 
temples,  before  the  happy  thought  occurred  of  con 
verting  them  into  churches. 

March  3d.  —  This  morning  was  U 's  birthday, 

and  we  celebrated  it  by  taking  a  barouche,  and 
driving  (the  whole  family)  out  on  the  Appian  Way 
as  far  as  the  tomb  of  Cecelia  Metella.  For  the  first 
time  since  we  came  to  Rome,  the  weather  was  really 
warm,  —  a  kind  of  heat  producing  languor  and  dis 
inclination  to  active  movement,  though  still  a  little 
breeze  which  was  stirring  threw  an  occasional  cool 
ness  over  us,  and  made  us  distrust  the  almost  sultry 
atmosphere.  I  cannot  think  the  Roman  climate 
healthy  in  any  of  its  moods  that  I  have  experienced. 

Close  on  the  other  side  of  the  road  are  the  ruins 
of  a  Gothic  chapel,  little  more  than  a  few  bare  walls 
and  painted  windows,  and  some  other  fragmentary 
structures  which  we  did  not  particularly  examine. 

U and  I  clambered  through  a  gap  in  the  wall, 

extending  from  the  basement  of  the  tomb,  and  thus, 
getting  into  the  field  beyond,  went  quite  round  the 
mausoleum  and  the  remains  of  the  castle  connected 
with  it.  The  latter,  though  still  high  and  stalwart, 
showed  few  or  no  architectural  features  of  interest, 
being  built,  I  think,  principally  of  large  bricks,  and 
not  to  be  compared  to  English  ruins  as  a  beautiful 
or  venerable  object. 


116  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

A  little  way  beyond  Cecelia  Metella's  tomb,  the 
road  still  shows  a  specimen  of  the  ancient  Roman 
pavement,  composed  of  broad,  flat  flagstones,  a  good 
deal  cracked  and  worn,  but  sound  enough,  probably, 
to  outlast  the  little  cubes  which  make  the  other  por 
tions  of  the  road  so  uncomfortable.  We  turned  back 
from  this  point  and  soon  re-entered  the  gate  of  St. 
Sebastian,  which  is  flanked  by  two  small  towers,  and 
just  within  which  is  the  old  triumphal  arch  of  Drusus, 
—  a  sturdy  construction,  much  dilapidated  as  regards 
its  architectural  beauty,  but  rendered  far  more  pic 
turesque  than  it  could  have  been  in  its  best  days  by 
a  crown  of  verdure  on  its  head.  Probably  so  much 
of  the  dust  of  the  highway  has  risen  in  clouds  and 
settled  there,  that  sufficient  soil  for  shrubbery  to 
root  itself  has  thus  been  collected,  by  small  annual 
contributions,  in  the  course  of  two  thousand  years. 
A  little  farther  towards  the  city  we  turned  aside 
from  the  Appian  Way,  and  came  to  the  site  of  some 
ancient  Columbaria,  close  by  what  seemed  to  partake 
of  the  character  of  a  villa  and  a  farm-house,  A  man 
came  out  of  the  house  and  unlocked  a  door  in  a  low 
building,  apparently  quite  modern  ;  but  on  entering 
we  found  ourselves  looking  into  a  large,  square 
chamber,  sunk  entirely  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
ground.  A  very  narrow  and  steep  staircase  of  stone, 
and  evidently  ancient,  descended  into  this  chamber ; 
and,  going  down,  we  found  the  walls  hollowed  on 
all  sides  into  little  semicircular  niches,  of  which, 
I  believe,  there  were  nine  rows,  one  above  another, 
and  nine  niches  in  each  row.  Thus  they  looked 


1858.]  ITALY.  117 

somewhat  like  the  little  entrances  to  a  pigeon-house, 
and  hence  the  name  of  Columbarium.  Each  semi 
circular  niche  was  about  a  foot  in  its  semidiameter. 
In  the  centre  of  this  subterranean  chamber  was  a 
solid  square  column,  or  pier,  rising  to  the  roof,  and 
containing  other  niches  of  the  same  pattern,  besides 
one  that  was  high  and  deep,  rising  to  the  height 
of  a  man  from  the  floor  on  each  of  the  four  sides. 
In  every  one  of  the  semicircular  niches  were  two 
round  holes  covered  with  an  earthen  plate,  and  in 
each  hole  were  ashes  and  little  fragments  of  bones,  — 
the  ashes  and  bones  of  the  dead,  whose  names  were 
inscribed  in  Roman  capitals  on  marble  slabs  inlaid 
into  the  wall  over  each  individual  niche.  Very  likely 
the  great  ones  in  the  central  pier  had  contained 
statues,  or  busts,  or  large  urns  ;  indeed,  I  remember 
that  some  such  things  were  there,  as  well  as  bas- 
reliefs  in  the  walls  ;  but  hardly  more  than  the  general 
aspect  of  this  strange  place  remains  in  my  mind. 
It  was  the  Columbarium  of  the  connections  or  de 
pendants  of  the  Caesars ;  and  the  impression  left 
on  me  was,  that  this  mode  of  disposing  of  the  dead 
was  infinitely  preferable  to  any  which  has  been 
adopted  since  that  day.  The  handful  or  two  of  dry 
dust  and  bits  of  dry  bones  in  each  of  the  small  round 
holes  had  nothing  disgusting  in  them,  and  they  are 
no  drier  now  than  they  were  when  first  deposited 
there.  I  would  rather  have  my  ashes  scattered  over 
the  soil  to  help  the  growth  of  the  grass  and  daisies ; 
but  still  I  should  not  murmur  much  at  having  them 
decently  pigeon-holed  in  a  Roman  tomb. 


118  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185& 

After  ascending  out  of  this  chamber  of  the  dead,  we 
looked  down  into  another  similar  one.,  containing  the 
ashes  of  Poinpey's  household,  which  was  discovered 
only  a  very  few  years  ago.  Its  arrangement  was  the 
same  as  that  first  described,  except  that  it  had  no  cen 
tral  pier  with  a  passage  round  it,  as  the  former  had. 

While  we  were  down  in  the  first  chamber  the  pro 
prietor  of  the  spot  —  a  half-gentlemanly  and  very 
affable  kind  of  person  —  came  to  us,  and  explained 
the  arrangements  of  the  Columbarium,  though,  indeed 
we  understood  them  better  by  their  own  aspect  than 
by  his  explanation.  The  whole  soil  around  his  dwell 
ing  is  elevated  much  above  the  level  of  the  road,  and 
it  is  probable  that,  if  he  chose  to  excavate,  he  might 
bring  to  light  many  more  sepulchral  chambers,  and 
find  his  profits  in  them  too,  by  disposing  of  the  urns 
and  busts.  What  struck  me  as  much  as  anything 
was  the  neatness  of  these  subterranean  apartments, 
which  were  quite  as  fit  to  sleep  in  as  most  of  those 
occupied  by  living  Romans ;  and,  having  undergone  no 
wear  and  tear,  they  were  in  as  good  condition  as  on 
the  day  tl^ey  were  built. 

In  flhis  Columbarium,  measuring  about  twenty 
feet  square,  I  roughly  estimate  that  there  have  been 
deposited  together  the  remains  of  at  least  seven 
or  eight  hundred  persons,  reckoning  two  little  heaps 
of  bones  and  ashes  in  each  pigeon-hole,  nine  pigeon 
holes  in  each  row,  and  nine  rows  on  each  side,  besides 
those  on  the  middle  pier.  All  difficulty  in  finding 
space  for  the  dead  would  be  obviated  by  returning  to 
the  ancient  fashion  of  reducing  them  to  ashes,  —  the 


>858.]  ITALY.  119 

only  objection,  though  a  very  serious  one,  being  the 
quantity  of  fuel  that  it  would  require.  But  perhaps 
future  chemists  may  discover  some  better  means  of  con 
suming  or  dissolving  this  troublesome  mortality  of  ours. 
We  got  into  the  carriage  again,  and,  driving  farther 
towards  the  city,  came  to  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  of 
the  exterior  of  which  I  retain  no  very  definite  idea. 
It  was  close  upon  the  Appian  Way,  however,  though 
separated  from  it  by  a  high  fence,  and  accessible 
through  a  gateway,  leading  into  a  court.  I  think  the 
tomb  is  wholly  subterranean,  and  that  the  ground 
above  it  is  covered  with  the  buildings  of  a  farm-house; 
but  of  this  I  cannot  be  certain,  as  we  were  led  imme 
diately  into  a  dark,  underground  passage,  by  an  elderly 
peasant,  of  a  cheerful  and  affable  demeanor.  As  soon 
as  he  had  brought  us  into  the  twilight  of  the  tomb, 
he  lighted  a  long  wax  taper  for  each  of  us,  and  led 
us  groping  into  blacker  and  blacker  darkness.  Even 

little  R, followed  courageously  in  the  procession, 

which  looked  very  picturesque  as  we  glanced  back 
ward  or  forward,  and  beheld  a  twinkling  line  of  seven 
lights,  glimmering  faintly  on  our  faces,  and  showing 
nothing  beyond.  The  passages  and  niches  of  the 
tomb  seem  to  have  been  hewn  and  hollowed  out  of 
the  rock,  not  built  by  any  art  of  masonry;  but  the 
walls  were  very  dark,  almost  black,  and  our  tapers  so 
dim  that  I  could  not  gain  a  sufficient  breadth  of  view 
to  ascertain  what  kind  of  place  it  was.  It  was  very 
dark,  indeed  ;  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky  could 
not  be  darker.  The  rough-hewn  roof  was  within 
touch,  and  sometimes  we  had  to  stoop  to  avoid  hit- 


120  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ting  our  heads ;  it  was  covered  with  damps,  which 
collected  and  fell  upon  us  in  occasional  drops.  The 
passages,  besides  being  narrow,  were  so  irregular  and 
crooked,  that,  after  going  a  little  way,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  return  upon  our  steps  without  the 
help  of  the  guide  ;  and  we  appeared  to  be  taking 
quite  an  extensive  ramble  underground,  though  in  re 
ality  I  suppose  the  tomb  includes  no  great  space.  At 
several  turns  of  our  dismal  way,  the  guide  pointed  to 
inscriptions  in  Roman  capitals,  commemorating  vari 
ous  members  of  the  Scipio  family  who  were  buried 
here  ;  among  them,  a  son  of  Scipio  Africanus,  who 
himself  had  his  death  and  burial  in  a  foreign  land. 
All  these  inscriptions,  however,  are  copies, — the  origi 
nals,  which  were  really  found  here,  having  been  re 
moved  to  the  Vatican.  Whether  any  bones  and  ashes 
have  been  left,  or  whether  any  were  found,  I  do  not 
know.  It  is  not,  at  all  events,  a  particularly  interest 
ing  spot,  being  such  shapeless  blackness,  and  a  mere 
dark  hole,  requiring  a  stronger  illumination  than  that 
of  our  tapers  to  distinguish  it  from  any  other  cellar. 
I  did,  at  one  place,  see  a  sort  of  frieze,  rather  roughly 
sculptured  ;  and,  as  we  returned  towards  the  twilight 
of  the  entrance-passage,  I  discerned  a  large  spider, 
who  fled  hastily  away  from  our  tapers,  • —  the  solitary 
living  inhabitant  of  the  tomb  of  the  Scipios. 

One  visit  that  we  made,  and  T  think  it  was  before 
entering  the  city  gates,  I  forgot  to  mention.  It  was 
to  an  old  edifice,  formerly  called  the  Temple  of  Bac 
chus,  but  now  supposed  to  have  been  the  Temple  of 
Virtue  and  Honor.  The  interior  consists  of  a  vaulted 


1358.]  ITALY.  121 

hall,  which  was  converted  from  its  pagan  consecration 
into  a  church  or  chapel,  by  the  early  Christians ;  and 
the  ancient  marble  pillars  of  the  temple  may  still  be 
seen  built  in  with  the  brick  and  stucco  of  the  later 
occupants.  There  is  an  altar,  and  other  tokens  of  a 
Catholic  church,  and  high  towards  the  ceiling,  there 
are  some  frescos  of  saints  or  angels,  very  curious 
specimens  of  mediaeval,  and  earlier  than  mediaeval  art. 
Nevertheless,  the  place  impressed  me  as  still  rather 
pagan  than  Christian.  What  is  most  remarkable 
about  this  spot  or  this  vicinity  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  Fountain  of  Egeria  was  formerly  supposed  to  be 
close  at  hand ;  indeed,  the  custode  of  the  chapel  still 
claims  the  spot  as  the  identical  one  consecrated  by  the 
legend.  There  is  a  dark  grove  of  trees,  not  far  from 
the  door  of  the  temple ;  but  Murray,  a  highly  essential 
nuisance  on  such  excursions  as  this,  throws  such  over 
whelming  doubt,  or  rather  incredulity,  upon  the  site, 
that  I  seized  upon  it  as  a  pretext  for  not  going  thither. 
In  fact,  my  small  capacity  for  sight-seeing  was  already 
more  than  satisfied. 

On  account  of 1  am  sorry  that  we  did  not  see 

the  grotto,  for  her  enthusiasm  is  as  fresh  as  the  waters 
of  Egeria's  well  can  be,  and  she  has  poetical  faith 
enough  to  light  her  cheerfully  through  all  these  mists 
of  incredulity. 

Our  visits  to  sepulchral  places  ended  with  Scipio's 
tomb,  whence  we  returned  to  our  dwelling,  and  Miss 
M came  to  dine  with  us. 

March  IQth.  —  On  Saturday  last,  a  very  rainy  day, 
we  went  to  the  Sciarra  Palace,  and  took  U with. 

VOL.  i.  6 


122  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

us.  It  is  on  the  Corso,  nearly  opposite  to  the  Piazza 
Colonna.  It  hag  (Heaven  be  praised!)  but  four  rooms 
of  pictures,  among  which,  however,  are  several  very 
celebrated  ones.  Only  a  few  of  these  remain  in  rny 
memory, — -Raphael's  "Violin  Player,"  which  I  am 
willing  to  accept  as  a  good  picture  ;  and  Leonardo  da 
Vinci's  "Vanity  and  Modesty,"  which  also  I  can  bring 
up  before  my  mind's  eye,  and  find  it  very  beautiful, 
although  one  of  the  faces  has  an  affected  smile,  which 
I  have  since  seen  on  another  picture  by  the  same  artist, 
Joanna  of  Arragon.  The  most  striking  picture  in  the 
collection,  I  think,  is  Titian's  "Bella  Donna,"  —  the 
only  one  of  Titian's  works  that  I  have  yet  seen  which 
makes  an  impression  on  me  corresponding  with  his 
fame.  It  is  a  very  splendid  and  very  scornful  lady, 
as  beautiful  and  as  scornful  as  Gainsborough's  Lady 
Lyndoch,  though  of  an  entirely  different  type.  There 
were  two  Madonnas  by  Guido,  of  which  I  liked  the 
least  celebrated  one  best ;  and  several  pictures  by 
Garofalo,  who  always  produces  something  noteworthy. 
All  the  pictures  lacked  the  charm  (no  doubt  I  am  a 
barbarian  to  think  it  one)  of  being  in  brilliant  frames, 
and  looked  as  if  it  were  a  long,  long  while  since  they 
were  cleaned  or  varnished.  The  light  was  so  scanty, 
too,  on  that  heavily  clouded  day,  and  in  those  gloomy 
old  rooms  of  the  palace,  that  scarcely  anything  could 
be  fairly  made  out. 

[I  cannot  refrain  from  observing  here,  that  Mr. 
Hawthorne's  inexorable  demand  for  perfection  in  all 
things  leads  him  to  complain  of  grimy  pictures  and 
tarnished  frames  and  faded  frescos,  distressing  be- 


J858.]  ITALY.  123 

yond  measure  to  eyes  that  never  failed  to  see  every 
thing  before  him  with  the  keenest  apprehension.  The 
usual  careless  observation  of  people  both  of  the  good 
and  the  imperfect  is  much  more  comfortable  in  this 
imperfect  world.  But  the  insight  which  Mr.  Haw 
thorne  possessed  was  only  equalled  by  his  outsight, 
and  he  suffered  in  a  way  not  to  be  readily  conceived, 
from  any  failure  in  beauty,  physical,  moral,  or  intel 
lectual.  It  is  not,  therefore,  mere  love  of  upholstery 
that  impels  him  to  ask  for  perfect  settings  to  priceless 
gems  of  art ;  but  a  native  idiosyncrasy,  which  always 
made  me  feel  that  "  the  New  Jerusalem,"  "  even  like  a 
jasper  stone,  clear  as  crystal,"  "  where  shall  in  no  wise 
enter  anything  that  defileth,  neither  what  worketh 
abomination  nor  maketh  a  lie,"  would  alone  satisfy 
him,  or  rather  alone  not  give  him  actual  pain.  It 
may  give  an  idea  of  this  exquisite  nicety  of  feeling  to 
mention,  that  one  day  he  took  in  his  fingers  a  half- 
bloomed  rose,  without  blemish,  and,  smiling  with  an 
infinite  joy,  remarked,  "  This  is  perfect.  On  earth  a 
flower  only  can  be  perfect."  —  ED.] 

The  palace  is  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
old,  and  looks  as  if  it  had  never  been  a  very  cheerful 
place  ;  most  shabbily  and  scantily  furnished,  moreover, 
and  as  chill  as  any  cellar.  There  is  a  small  balcony, 
looking  down  on  the  Corso,  which  probably  has  often 
been  filfed  with  a  merry  little  family  party,  in  the 
carnivals  of  days  long  past.  It  has  faded  frescos, 
and  tarnished  gilding,  and  green  blinds,  and  a  few 
damask  chairs  still  remain  in  it. 

On  Monday  we  all  went  to  the  sculpture-gallery  of 


124  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  Vatican,  and  saw  as  much  of  the  sculpture  as  we 
could  in  the  three  hours  during  which  the  public  are 
admissible.  There  were  a  few  things  which  I  really 
enjoyed,  and  a  few  moments  during  which  I  really 
seemed  to  see  them ;  but  it  is  in  vain  to  attempt 
giving  the  impression  produced  by  masterpieces  of 
art,  and  most  in  vain  when  we  see  them  best.  They 
are  a  language  in  themselves,  and  if  they  could  be 
expressed  as  well  any  way  except  by  themselves,  there 
would  have  been  no  need  of  expressing  those  particular 
ideas  and  sentiments  by  sculpture.  I  saw  the  Apollo 
Belvidere  as  something  ethereal  and  godlike ;  only  for 
a  flitting  moment,  however,  and  as  if  he  had  alighted 
from  heaven,  or  shone  suddenly  out  of  the  sunlight, 
and  then  had  withdrawn  himself  again.  I  felt  the 
Laocoon  very  powerfully,  though  very  quietly ;  an 
immortal  agony,  with  a  strange  calmness  diffused 
through  it,  so  that  it  resembles  the  vast  rage  of  the 
sea,  calm,  on  account  of  its  immensity  ;  or  the  tumult 
of  Niagara,  which  does  not  seem  to  be  tumult,  because 
it  keeps  pouring  on  for  ever  and  ever.  I  have  not 
had  so  good  a  day  as  this  (among  works  of  art)  since 
we  came  to  Home ;  and  I  impute  it  partly  to  the 
magnificence  of  the  arrangements  of  the  Vatican, —  its 
long  vistas  and  beautiful  courts,  and  the  aspect  of 
immortality  which  marble  statues  acquire  by  being 
kept  free  from  dust.  A  very  hungry  boy,  seeing  in 
one  of  the  cabinets  a  vast  porphyry  vase,  forty-four 
feet  in  circumference,  wished  that  he  had  it  full  of 
soup. 

Yesterday,  we  went  to   the  Pamfili  Doria  Palace, 


1858.]  ITALY.  125 

which,  I  believe,  is  the  most  splendid  in  Rome.  The 
entrance  is  from  the  Corso  into  a  court,  surrounded 
by  a  colonnade,  and  having  a  space  of  luxuriant  ver 
dure  and  ornamental  shrubbery  in  the  centre.  The 
apartments  containing  pictures  and  sculptures  are 
fifteen  in  number,  and  run  quite  round  the  court  in 
the  first  piano,  —  all  the  rooms,  halls,  and  galleries  of 
beautiful  proportion,  with  vaulted  roofs,  some  of  which 
glow  with  frescos ;  and  all  are  colder  and  more  com 
fortless  than  can  possibly  be  imagined  without  having 
been  in  them.  The  pictures,  most  of  them,  interested 
me  very  little.  I  am  of  opinion  that  good  pictures 
are  quite  as  rare  as  good  poets ;  and  I  do  not  see 
why  we  should  pique  ourselves  on  admiring  any 
but  the  very  best.  One  in  a  thousand,  perhaps,  ought 
to  live  in  the  applause  of  men,  from  generation  to 
generation,  till  its  colors  fade  or  blacken  out  of  sight,* 
and  its  canvas  rots  away ;  the  rest  should  be  put  in 
garrets,  or  painted  over  by  newer  artists,  just  as 
tolerable  poets  are  shelved  when  their  little  day  is 
over.  Nevertheless,  there  was  one  long  gallery  con 
taining  many  pictures  that  I  should  be  glad  to  see 
again  under  more  favorable  circumstances,  that  is, 
separately,  and  where  I  might  contemplate  them 
quite  undisturbed,  reclining  in  an  easy-chair.  At  one 
end  of  the  long  vista  of  this  gallery  is  a  bust  of  the 
present  Prince  Doria,  a  smooth,  sharp-nosed,  rather 
handsome  young  man,  and  at  the  other  end  his 
princess,  an  English  lady  of  the  Talbot  family,  ap 
parently  a  blonde,  with  a  simple  and  sweet  expression. 
There  is  a  noble  and  striking  portrait  of  the  old 


126  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Venetian  admiral,  Andrea  Doria,  by  Sebastian  del 
Piombo,  and  some  other  portraits  and  busts  of  the 
family. 

In  the  whole  immense  range  of  rooms  I  saw  but  a 
single  fireplace,  and  that  so  deep  in  the  wall  that  no 
amount  of  blaze  would  raise  the  atmosphere  of  the 
room  ten  degrees.  If  the  builder  of  the  palace,  or 
any  of  his  successors,  have  committed  crimes  worthy 
of  Tophet,  it  would  ( ^  a  still  worse  punishment  for 
him  to  wander  perpetually  through  this  suite  of  rooms 
on  the  cold  floors  of  polished  brick  tiles  or  marble  or 
mosaic,  growing  a  little  chiller  and  chiller  through 
every  moment  of  eternity,  —  or,  at  least,  till  the  palace 
crumbles  down  upon  him. 

Neither  would  it  assuage  his  torment  in  the  least 
to  be  compelled  to  gaze  up  at  the  dark  old  pictures,  — 
the  ugly  ghosts  of  what  may  once  have  been  beautiful. 
I  am  not  going  to  try  any  more  to  receive  pleasure 
from  a  faded,  tarnished,  lustreless  picture,  especially 
if  it  be  a  landscape.  There  were  two  or  three  land 
scapes  of  Claude  in  this  palace,  which  I  doubt  not 
would  have  been  exquisite  if  they  were  in  the  condi 
tion  of  those  in  the  British  National  Gallery  ;  but  here 
they  looked  most  forlorn,  and  even  their  sunshine  was 
sunless.  The  merits  of  historical  painting  may  be 
quite  independent  of  the  attributes  that  give  pleasure, 
and  a  superficial  ugliness  may  even  heighten  the 
effect;  but  not  so  of  landscapes. 

Via  Porta,  Palazzo  Larazani,  March  \\tli. — To 
day  we  called  at  Mr.  Thompson's  studio,  and  .... 


1858.]  ITALY.  127 

he>vhad  on  the  easel  a  little  picture  of  St.  Peter  re 
leased  from  prison  by  the  angel,  which  I  saw  once 
before.  It  is  very  beautiful  indeed,  and  deeply  and 
spiritually  conceived,  and  I  wish  I  could  afford  to 
have  it  finished  for  myself.  I  looked  again,  too,  at 
his  Georgian  slave,  and  admired  it  as  much  as  at  first 
view ;  so  very  warm  and  rich  it  is,  so  sensuously 
beautiful,  and  with  an  expression  of  higher  life  and 
feeling  within.  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  better  painter 
than  Mr.  Thompson  living,  —  among  Americans  at 
least;  not  one  so  earnest,  faithful,  and  religious  in 
his  worship  of  art*  I  had  rather  look  at  his  pictures 
than  at  any  except  the  very  finest  of  the  old  masters, 
and,  taking  into  consideration  only  the  comparative 
pleasure  to  be  derived,  I  would  not  except  more 
than  one  or  two  of  those.  In  painting,  as  in  liter 
ature,  I  suspect  there  is  something  in  the  productions 
of  the  day  that  takes  the  fancy  more  than  the  works  of 
any  past  age,  —  not  greater  merit,  nor  nearly  so  great, 

but  better  suited  to  this  very  present  time 

After  leaving  him,  we  went  to  the  Piazza  di  Ter 
mini,  near  the  Baths  of  Diocletian,  /and  found  our 
way  with  some  difficulty  to  Crawford's  studio.  It 
occupies  several  great  rooms,  connected  with  the 
offices  of  the  Villa  Negroni ;  and  all  these  rooms  were 
full  of  plaster  casts  and  a  few  works  in  marble,  — 
principally  portions  of  his  huge  Washington  monu 
ment,  which  he  left  unfinished  at  his  death.  Close  by 
the  door  at  which  we  entered  stood  a  gigantic  figure  of 
Mason,  in  bag-wig,  and  the  coat,  waistcoat,  breeches, 
and  knee  and  shoe  buckles  of  the  last  century,  —  the 


128  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

enlargement  of  these  unheroic  matters  to  far  more 
than  heroic  size  having  a  very  odd  effect.  There  was 
a  figure  of  Jefferson  on  the  same  scale ;  another  of 
Patrick  Henry,  besides  a  horse's  head,  and  other  por 
tions  of  the  equestrian  group  which  is  to  cover  the 
summit  of  the  monument.  In  one  of  the  rooms  was 
a  model  of  the  monument  itself,  on  a  scale,  I  should 
think,  of  about  an  inch  to  a  foot.  It  did  not  impress 
me  as  having  grown  out  of  any  great  and  genuine 
idea  in  the  artist's  mind,  but  as  being  merely  an 
ingenious  contrivance  enough.  There  were  also  casts 
of  statues  that  seemed  to  be  intended  for  some  other 
monument  referring  to  Revolutionary  times  and  per 
sonages  ;  and  with  these  were  intermixed  some  ideal 
statues  or  groups,  —  a  naked  boy  playing  marbles,  very 
beautiful ;  a  girl  with  flowers  ;  the  cast  of  his  Or 
pheus,  of  which  I  long  ago  saw  the  marble  statue ; 
Adam  and  Eve  ;  Flora,  —  all  with  a  good  deal  of  merit, 
no  doubt,  but  not  a  single  one  that  justifies  Craw 
ford's  reputation,  or  that  satisfies  me  of  his  genius. 
They  are  but  commonplaces  in  marble  and  plaster, 
such  as  we  should  not  tolerate  on  a  printed  page. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  respectable  man,  highly 
respectable,  but  no  more,  although  those  who  knew 
him  seem  to  have  rated  him  much  higher.  It  is  said 
that  he  exclaimed,  not  very  long  before  his  death, 
that  he  had  fifteen  years  of  good  work  still  in  him ; 
and  he  appears  to  have  considered  all  his  life  and 
labor,  heretofore,  as  only  preparatory  to  the  great 
things  that  he  was  to  achieve  hereafter.  I  should 
say,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  was  a  man  who  had 


1858.]  ITALY.  12$ 

done  his  best,  and  had  done  it  early ;  for  his  Orpheus 
is  quite  as  good  as  anything  else  we  saw  in  his 
studio. 

People  were  at  work  chiselling  several  statues  in 
marble  from  the  plaster  models,  —  a  very  interesting 
process,  and  what  I  should  think  ^  doubtful  and 
hazardous  one ;  but  the  artists  say  that  there  is  no 
risk  of  mischief,  and  that  the  model  is  sure  to  be 
accurately  repeated  in  the  marble.  These  persons, 
who  do  what  is  considered  the  mechanical  part  of 
the  business,  are  often  themselves  sculptors,  and  of 
higher  reputation  than  those  who  employ  them. 

It  is  rather  sad  to  think  that  Crawford  died  before 
he  could  see  his  ideas  in  the  marble,  where  they 
gleam  with  so  pure  and  celestial  a  light  as  compared 
with  the  plaster.  There  is  almost  as  much  difference 
as  between  flesh  and  spirit. 

The  floor  of  one  of  the  rooms  was  burdened  with 
immense  packages,  containing  parts  of  the  Washing 
ton  monument,  ready  to  be  forwarded  to  its  destina 
tion.  When  finished,  and  set  up,  it  will  probably 
make  a  very  splendid  appearance,  by  its  height,  its 
mass,  its  skilful  execution ;  and  will  produce  a  moral 
effect  through  its  images  of  illustrious  men,  and  the 
associations  that  connect  it  with  our  Revolutionary 
history ;  but  I  do  not  think  it  will  owe  much  to 
artistic  force  of  thought  or  depth  of  feeling.  It  is  cer 
tainly,  in  one  sense,  a  very  foolish  and  illogical  piece 
of  work,  —  Washington,  mounted  on  an  uneasy  steed, 
on  a  very  narrow  space,  aloft  in  the  air,  whence  a  sin 
gle  step  of  the  horse  backward,  forward,  or  on  either 
6*  -  i 


130  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858,, 

side,  must  precipitate  him ;  and  several  of  bis  con 
temporaries  standing  beneath  him,  not  looking  up  to 
wonder  at  his  predicament,  but  each  intent  on  mani 
festing  his  own  personality  to  the  world  around. 
They  have  nothing  to  do  with  one  another,  nor  with 
Washington,  nor  with  any  great  purpose  which  all 
are  to  work  out  together. 

March  \^th. — On  Friday  evening  I  dined  at  Mr. 
T.  B.  Reade's,  the  poet  and  artist,  with  a  party  com 
posed  of  painters  and  sculptors,  —  the  only  exceptions 
being  the  American  banker  and  an  American  tourist 
wTho  has  given  Mr.  Reade  a  commission.  Next  to 
me  at  table  sat  Mr.  Gibson,  the  English  sculptor, 
who,  I  suppose,  stands  foremost  in  his  profession  at 
this  day.  He  must  be  quite  an  old  man  now,  for  it 
was  whispered  about  the  table  that  he  is  known  to 
have  been  in  Rome  forty-two  years  ago,  and  he  him 
self  spoke  to  me  of  spending  thirty-seven  years  here, 
before  he  once  returned  home.  I  should  hardly  take 
him  to  be  sixty,  however,  his  hair  being  more  dark 
than  gray,  his  forehead  unwrinkled,  his  features  un- 
withered,  his  eye  undimmed,  though  his  beard  is 
somewhat  venerable 

He  has  a  quiet,  self-contained  aspect,  and,  being  a 
bachelor,  has  doubtless  spent  a  calm  life  among  his 
clay  and  marble,  meddling  little  with  the  world,  and 
entangling  himself  with  no  cares  beyond  his  studio. 
He  did  not  talk  a  great  deal  ;  but  enough  to  show 
that  he  is  still  an  Englishman  in  many  sturdy  traits, 
though  his  accent  has  something  foreign  about  it.  His 
conversation  was  chiefly  about  India,  and  other  topics 


1358.]  ITALY.  131 

of  the  day,  together  with  a  few  reminiscences  of  people 
in  Liverpool,  where  he  once  resided.  There  was  a 
kind  of  simplicity  both  in  his  manner  and  matter,  and 
nothing  very  remarkable  in  the  latter 

The  gist  of  what  he  said  (upon  art)  was  condemna 
tory  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  modern  school  of  painters, 
of  whom  he  seemed  to  spare  none,  and  of  their  works 
nothing  ;  though  he  allowed  that  the  old  Pre-Raphael- 
ites  had  some  exquisite  merits,  which  the  moderns 
entirely  omit  in  their  imitations.  In  his  own  art, 
he  said  the  aim  should  be  to  find  out  the  principles 
on  which  the  Greek  sculptors  wrought,  and  to  do  the 
work  of  this  day  on  those  principles  and  in  their 
spirit ;  a  fair  doctrine  enough,  I  should  think,  but 
which  Mr.  Gibson .  can  scarcely  be  said  to  practise. 
....  The  difference  between  the  Pre-Raphaelite s  and 
himself  is  deep  and  genuine,  they  being  literalists 
and  realists,  in  a  certain  sense,  and  he  a  pagan 
idealist.  Methinks  they  have  hold  of  the  best  end 
of  the  matter. 

March  ISt/i.  —  To-day,  it  being  very  bright  and 
mild,  we  set  out,  at  noon,  for  an  expedition  to  the 
Temple  of  Vesta,  though  I  did  not  feel  much  inclined 
for  walking,  having  been  ill  and  feverish  for  two  or 
three  days  past  with  a  cold,  which  keeps  renewing 
itself  faster  than  I  can  get  rid  of  it.  We  kept  along 
on  this  side  of  the  Corso,  and  crossed  the  Forum, 
skirting  along  the  Capitoline  Hill,  and  thence  towards 
the  Circus  Maximus.  On  our  way,  looking  down  a 
cross  street,  we  saw  a  heavy  arch,  and,  on  examina 
tion,  made  it  out  to  be  the  Arch  of  Janus  Quadrifrons, 


132  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

standing  in  the  Forum  Boarium.  Its  base  is  now 
considerably  below  the  level  of  the  surrounding  soil, 
and  there  is  a  church  or  basilica  close  by,  and  some 
mean  edifices  looking  down  upon  it.  There  is  some 
thing  satisfactory  in  ihii  arch,  from  the  immense 
solidity  of  its  structure.  It  gives  the  idea,  in  the 
first  place,  of  a  solid  mass  constructed  of  huge  blocks 
of  marble,  which  time  can  never  wear  away,  nor 
earthquakes  shake  down;  and  then  this  solid  mass 
is  penetrated  by  two  arched  passages,  meeting  in  the 
centre.  There  are  empty  niches,  three  in  a  row,  and, 
I  think,  two  rows  on  each  face ;  but  there  seems  to 
have  been  very  little  effort  to  make  it  a  beautiful 
object.  On  the  top  is  some  brickwork,  the  remains 
of  a  mediaeval  fortress  built  by  the  Frangipanis,  look 
ing  very  frail  and  temporary  being  brought  thus  in 
contact  with  the  antique  strength  of  the  arch. 

A  few  yards  off.  across  the  street,  and  close  beside 
the  basilica,  is  what  appears  to  be  an  ancient  portal, 
with  carved  bas-reliefs,  and  an  inscription  which  I 
could  not  make  out.  Some  Romans  were  lying  dor 
mant  in  the  sun,  on  the  steps  of  the  basilica;  indeed, 
now  that  the  sun  is  getting  warmer,  they  seem  to  take 
advantage  of  every  quiet  nook  to  bask  in,  and  perhaps 
to  go  to  sleep. 

We  had  gone  but  a  little  way  from  the  arch,  and 
across  the  Circus  Maximus,  when  we  saw  the  Temple 
of  Vesta  before  us,  on  the  bank  of  the  Tiber,  which, 
however,  we  could  not  see  behind  it.  It  is  a  most 
perfectly  preserved  Roman  ruin,  and  very  beautiful, 
though  so  small  that,  in  a  suitable  locality,  one  would 


1858.]  ITALY.  133 

take  it  rather  for  a  garden-house  than  an  ancient 
temple.  A  circle  of  white  marble  pillars,  much  time- 
worn  and  a  little  battered,  though  but  one  of  them 
broken,  surround  the  solid  structure  of  the  temple, 
leaving  a  circular  walk  between  it  and  the  pillars,  the 
whole  covered  by  a  modern  roof  which  looks  like 
wood,  and  disgraces  and  deforms  the  elegant  little 
building.  This  roof  resembles,  as  much  as  anything, 
else,  the  round  wicker  cover  of  a  basket,  and  gives  a 
very  squat  aspect  to  the  temple.  The  pillars  are  of 
the  Corinthian  order,  and  when  they  were  new  and  the 
marble  snow-white  and  sharply  carved  and  cut,  there 
could  not  have  been  a  prettier  object  in  all  Rome  ; 
but  so  small  an  edifice  does  not  appear  well  as  a  ruin. 

Within  view  of  it,  and,  indeed,  a  very  little  way  off, 
is  the  Temple  of  Fortuna  Virilis,  which  likewise  re 
tains  its  antique  form  in  better  preservation  than  we 
generally  find  a  Roman  ruin,  although  the  Ionic  pillars 
are  now  built  up  with  blocks  of  stone  and  patches  of 
brickwork,  the  whole  constituting  a  church  which  is 
fixed  against  the  side  of  a  tall  edifice,  the  nature  of 
which  I  do  not  know. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  we  gained  admittance  into  the 
Temple  of  Vesta,  and  found  the  interior  a  plain 
cylinder  of  marble,  about  ten  paces  across,  and  fitted 
up  as  a  chapel,  where  the  Virgin  takes  the  place  of 
Vesta. 

In  very  close  vicinity  we  came  upon  the  Ponte 
Rotto,  the  old  Pons  Emilius  which  was  broken  down 
long  ago,  and  has  recently  been  pieced  out  by  con 
necting  a  suspension  bridge  with  the  old  piers.  We 


134  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

crossed  by  this  bridge,  paving  a  toll  of  a  baioccho 
each,  and  stopped  in  the  midst  of  the  river  to  look 
at  the  Temple  of  Vesta,  which  shows  well,  right  on 
the  brink  of  the  Tiber.  We  fancied,  too,  that  we 
could  discern,  a  little  farther  <lown  the  river,  the 
ruined  and  almost  submerged  piers  of  the  Sublician 
bridge,  which  Horatius  Codes  defended.  The  Tiber 
.here  whirls  rapidly  along,  and  Horatius  must  have 
had  a  perilous  swim  for  his  life,  and  the  enemy  a  fair 
mark  at  his  head  with  their  arrows.  I  think  this  is 
the  most  picturesque  part  of  the  Tiber  in  its  passage 
through  Rome. 

After  crossing  the  bridge,  we  kept  along  the  right 
bank  of  the  river,  through  the  dirty  and  hard-hearted 
streets  of  Trastevere  (which  have  in  no  respect  the 
advantage  over  those  of  hither  Rome),  till  we  reached 
St.  Peter's.  We  saw  a  family  sitting  before  their 
door  on  the  pavement  in  the  narrow  and  sunny  street, 
engaged  in  their  domestic  avocations,  —  the  old  woman 
spinning  with  a  wheel.  I  suppose  the  people  now 
begin  to  live  out  of  doors.  We  entered  beneath  the 
colonnade  of  St.  Peter's,  and  immediately  became 
sensible  of  an  evil  odor, — the  bad  odor  of  our. fallen 
nature,  which  there  is  no  escaping  in  any  nook  of 
Rome 

Between  the  pillars  of  the  colonnade,  however,  we 
had  the  pleasant  spectacle  of  the  two  fountains,  send 
ing  up  their  lily-shaped  gush,  with  rainbows  shining 
in  their  felling  spray.  Parties  of  French  soldiers,  as 
usual,  were  undergoing  their  drill  in  the  piazza. 
When  we  entered  the  church,  the  long,  dusty  sun- 


1858.]  ITALY.  135 

beams  were  falling  aslantwise  through  the  dome  and 
through  the  chancel  behind  it 

March  23d —  On  the  21st  we  all  .went  to  the 
Coliseum,  and  enjoyed  ourselves  there  in  the  bright, 
warm  sun,  —  so  bright  and  warm  that  we  were  glad  to 
get  into  the  shadow  of  the  walls  and  under  the  arches, 
though,  after  all,  there  was  the  freshness  of  March  in 

the  breeze  that  stirred  now  and  then.  J and  baby 

found  some  beautiful  flowers  growing  round  about  the 
Coliseum  ;  and  far  up  towards  the  top  of  the  walls  we 
saw  tufts  of  yellow  wall-flowers  and  a  great  deal  of 
green  grass  growing  along  the  ridges  between  the 
arches.  The  general  aspect  of  the  place,  however,  is 
somewhat  bare,  and  does  not  compare  favorably  with 
an  English  ruin  both  on  account  of  the  lack  of  ivy  and 
because  the  material  is  chiefly  brick,  the  stone  and 
marble  having  been  stolen  away  by  popes  and  cardi 
nals  to  build  their  palaces.  While  we  sat  within  the 
circle,  many  people,  of  both  sexes,  passed  through, 
kissing  the  iron  cross  which  stands  in  the  centre,  there 
by  gaining  an  indulgence  of  seven  years,  I  believe.  In 
front  of  se^  eral  churches  I  have  seen  an  inscription  in 
Latin,  "  INDULGENTIA  PLENARIA  ET  PERPETUA  PRO  CUNO 
TIS  MQRTUIS  ET  vivis  "  ;  than  which,  it  seems  to  me, 
nothing  more  could  be  asked  or  desired.  The  terms 
of  this  great  boon  are  not  mentioned. 

Leaving  the  Coliseum,  we  went  and  sat  down  in  the 

vicinity  of  the  Arch  of  Constantine,  and  J and 

R went  in  quest  of  lizards.  J soon  caught  a 

large  one  with  two  tails ;  one,  a  sort  of  afterthought, 
or  appendix,  or  corollary  to  the  original  tail,  and 


136  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

growing  out  from  it  instead  of  from  the  body  of  tho 

lizard.     These  reptiles  are  very  abundant,  and  J • 

has  already  brought  home  several,  which  make  their 
escape  and  appear  occasionally  darting  to  and  fro  on 

the  carpet.     Since  we  have  been  here,  J has  taken 

up  various  pursuits  in  turn.  First  he  voted  himself 
to  gathering  snail-shells,  of  which  there  are  many 
sorts ;  afterwards  he  had  a  fever  for  marbles,  pieces 
of  which  he  found  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  just  on 
the  edge  of  its  muddy  waters,  and  in  the  Palace  of  the 
Caesars,  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  and  indeed  wherever 
else  his  fancy  led  him  ;  verde  antique,  rosso  antico, 
porphyry,  giallo  antico,  serpentine,  sometimes  frag 
ments  of  bas-reliefs  and  mouldings,  bits  of  mosaic,  still 
firmly  stuck  together,  on  which  the  foot  of  a  Csesar 
had  perhaps  once  trodden  ;  pieces  of  Roman  glass, 
with  the  iridescence  glowing  on  them  ;  and  all  such 
things,  of  which  the  soil  of  Rome  is  full.  It  would 
not  be  difficult,  from  the  spoil  of  his  boyish  rambles, 
to  furnish  what  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  curious 
and  valuable  museum  in  America. 

Yesterday  we  went  to  the  sculpture-galleries  of  the 
Vatican.  I  think  I  enjoy  these  noble  galleries  and 
their  contents  and  beautiful  arrangement  better  than 
anything  else  in  the  way  of  art,  and  often  I  seem  to 
have  a  deep  feeling  of  something  wonderful  in  what  I 
look  at.  The  Laocoon  on  this  visit  impressed  me  not 
less  than  before ;  it  is  such  a  type  of  human  beings, 
struggling  with  an  inextricable  trouble,  and  entangled 
in  a  complication  which  they  cannot  free  themselves 
froixi  by  their  own  efforts,  and  out  of  which  Heaven 


1858.]  ITALY.  137 

alone  can  help  them.  It  was  a  most  powerful  mind, 
and  one  capable  of  reducing  a  complex  idea  to  unity, 
that  imagined  this  group.  I  looked  at  Canova's  Per 
seus,  and  thought  it  exceedingly  beautiful,  but  found 
myself  less  and  less  contented  after  a  moment  or  two, 
though  I  could  not  tell  why.  Afterwards,  looking  at 
the  Apollo,  the  recollection  of  the  Perseus  disgusted 
me,  and  yet  really  I  cannot  explain  how  one  is  better 
than  the  other. 

I  was  interested  in  looking  at  the  busts  of  the 
Triumvirs,  Antony,  Augustus,  and  Lepidus.  The  first 
two  are  men  of  intellect,  evidently,  though  they  do 
not  recommend  themselves  to  one's  affections  by  their 
physiognomy ;  but  Lepidus  has  the  strangest,  most 
commonplace  countenance  that  can  be  imagined, — 
small-featured,  weak,  such  a  face  as  you  meet  any 
where  in  a  man  of  no  mark,  but  are  amazed  to  find  in 
one  of  the  three  foremost  men  of  the  world.  I  sup 
pose  that  it  is  these  weak  and  shallow  men,  when 
chance  raises  them  above  their  proper  sphere,  who 
commit  enormous  crimes  without  any  such  restraint 
as  stronger  men  would  feel,  and  without  any  retribu^ 
tion  in  the  depth  of  their  conscience.  These  old 
Roman  busts,  of  which  there  are  so  many  in  the 
Vatican,  have  often  a  most  life-like  aspect,  a  striking 
individuality.  One  recognizes  them  as  faithful  por 
traits,  just  as  certainly  as  if  the  living  originals  were 
standing  beside  them.  The  arrangement  of  the  hair 
and  beard  too,  in  many  cases,  is  just  what  we  see  now, 
the  fashions  of  two  thousand  years  ago  having  come 
round  again. 


138  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

March  25th.  —  On  Tuesday  we  went  to  breakfast  at 
"William  Story's  in  the  Palazzo  Barberiui.  We  had  a 
very  pleasant  time.  He  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
men  I  know  in  society.  He  showed  us  a  note  from 
Thackeray,  an  invitation  to  dinner,  written  in  hiero 
glyphics,  with  great  fun  and  pictorial  merit.  He  spoke 
of  an  expansion  of  the  story  of  Blue  Beard,  which  he 
himself  had  either  written  or  thought  of  writing,  in 
which  the  contents  of  the  several  chambers  which 
Fatima  opened,  before  arriving  at  the  fatal  one,  were 
to  be  described.  This  idea  has  haunted  my  mind 
ever  since,  and  if  it  had  but  been  my  own  I  am  pretty 
sure  that  it  would  develop  itself  into  something  very 
rich.  I  mean  to  press  William  Story  to  work  it  out. 
The  chamber  of  Blue  Beard,  too  (and  this  was  a  part 
of  his  suggestion),  might  be  so  handled  as  to  become 
powerfully  interesting.  Were  I  to  take  up  the  story 
I  would  create  an  interest  by  suggesting  a  secret  in 
the  first  chamber,  which  would  develop  itself  more 
and  more  in  every  successive  hall  of  the  great  palace, 
and  lead  the  wife  irresistibly  to  the  chamber  of  horrors. 

After  breakfast,  we  went  to  the  Barberini  Library, 
passing  through  the  vast  hall,  which  occupies  the  cen 
tral  part  of  the  palace.  It  is  the  most  splendid  do 
mestic  hall  I  have  seen,  eighty  feet  in  length  at  least, 
and  of  proportionate  breadth  and  height ;  and  the 
vaulted  ceiling  is  entirely  covered,  to  its  utmost  edge 
and  remotest  corners,  with  a  brilliant  painting  in 
fresco,  looking  like  a  whole  heaven  of  angelic  people 
descending  towards  the  floor.  The  effect  is  indescrib 
ably  gorgeous.  On  one  side  stands  a  Baldacchino,  or 


1858]  ITALY.  139 

canopy  of  state,  draped  with  scarlet  cloth,  and  fringed 
with  gold  embroidery  ;  the  scarlet  indicating  that  the 
palace  is  inhabited  by  a  cardinal.  Green  would  be 
appropriate  to  a  prince.  In  point  of  fact,  the  Palazzo 
Barberini  is  inhabited  by  a  cardinal,  a  prince,  and  a 
duke,  all  belonging  to  the  Barberini  family,  and  each 
having  his  separate  portion  of  the  palace,  while  their 
servants  have  a  common  territory  and  meeting-ground 
in  this  noble  hall. 

After  admiring  it  for  a  few  minutes,  we  made  our 
exit  by  a  door  on  the  opposite  side,  and  went  up  the 
spiral  staircase  of  marble  to  the  library,  where  we 
were  received  by  an  ecclesiastic,  who  belongs  to  the 
Barberini  household,  and  I  believe  was  born  in  it. 
He  is  a  gentle,  refined,  quiet-looking  man,  as  well  he 
may  be,  having  spent  all  his  life  among  these  books, 
where  few  people  intrude,  and  few  cares  can  come. 
He  showed  us  a  very  old  Bible  in  parchment,  a  speci 
men  of  the  earliest  printing,  beautifully  ornamented 
with  pictures,  and  some  monkish  illuminations  of 
indescribable  delicacy  and  elaboration.  No  artist 
could  afford  to  produce  such  work,  if  the  life  that  he 
thus  lavished  011  one  sheet  of  parchment  had  any 
value  to  him,  either  for  what  could  be  done  or  enjoyed 
in  it.  There  are  about  eight  thousand  volumes  in  this 
library,  and,  judging  by  their  outward  aspect,  the  col 
lection  must  be  curious  and  valuable ;  but  having 
another  engagement,  we  could  spend  only  a  little  time 
here.  We  had  a  hasty  glance,  however,  of  some  poems 
of  Tasso.  in  his  own  autograph. 

We  then  went  to  the  Palazzo  Galitzin,  where  dwell 


140  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  Misses  Weston,  with  whom  we  lunched,  and  where 
we  met  a  French  abbe,  an  agreeable  man,  and  an  an 
tiquarian,  under  whose  auspices  two  of  the  ladies  and 
ourselves  took  carriage  for  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo. 
Being  admitted  within  the  external  gateway,  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  court  of  guard,  as  I  presume  it 
is  called,  where  the  French  soldiers  were  playing  with 
very  dirty  cards,  or  lounging  about,  in  military  idle 
ness.  They  were  well  behaved  and  courteous,  and 
when  we  had  intimated  our  wish  to  see  the  interior 
of  the  castle,  a  soldier  soon  appeared,  with  a  large 
unlighted  torch  in  his  hand,  ready  to  guide  us.  There 
is  an  outer  wall,  surrounding  the  solid  structure  of 
Hadrian's  tomb ;  to  which  there  is  access  by  one  or 
two  drawbridges ;  the  entrance  to  the  tomb,  or  castle, 
not  being  at  the  base,  but  near  its  central  height. 
The  ancient  entrance,  by  which  Hadrian's  ashes,  and 
those  of  other  imperial  personages,  were  probably 
brought  into  this  tomb,  has  been  walled  up,  —  perhaps 
ever  since  the  last  emperor  was  buried  here.  We 
were  now  in  a  vaulted  passage,  both  lofty  and  broad, 
which  circles  round  the  whole  interior  of  the  tomb, 
from  the  base  to  the  summit.  During  many  hundred 
years,  the  passage  was  filled  with  earth  and  rubbish, 
and  forgotten,  and  it  is  but  partly  excavated,  even 
now ;  although  we  found  it  a  long,  long,  and  gloomy 
descent  by  torchlight  to  the  base  of  the  vast  mauso 
leum.  The  passage  was  once  lined  and  vaulted  with 
precious  marbles  (which  are  now  entirely  gone),  and 
paved  with  fine  mosaics,  portions  of  which  still  remain  : 
and  our  guide  lowered  his  flaming  torch  to  show  them 


1858.]  ITALY.  141 

to  us,  here  and  there,  amid  the  earthy  dampness  over 
which  we  trod.  It  is  strange  to  think  what  splendor 
and  costly  adornment  were  here  wasted  on  the  dead. 

After  we  had  descended  to  the  bottom  of  this  pas 
sage,  and  again  retraced  our  steps  to  the  highest  part, 
the  guide  took  a  large  cannon-ball,  and  sent  it,  with 
his  whole  force,  rolling  down  the  hollow,  arched  way, 
rumbling,  and  reverberating,  and  bellowing  forth  long 
thunderous  echoes,  and  winding  up  with  a  loud,  dis 
tant  crash,  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  very  bowels 
of  the  earth. 

We  saw  the  place,  near  the  centre  of  the  mauso 
leum,  and  lighted  from  above,  through  an  immense 
thickness  of  stone  and  brick,  where  the  ashes  of  the 
emperor  and  his  fellow-slumberers  were  found.  It  is 
as  much  as  twelve  centuries,  very  likely,  since  they 
were  scattered  to  the  winds,  for  the  tomb  has  beep 
nearly  or  quite  that  space  of  time  a  fortress.  The 
tomb  itself  is  merely  the  base  and  foundation  of  the 
castle,  and,  being  so  massively  built,  it  serves  just  as 
well  for  the  purpose  as  if  it  were  a  solid  granite  rock. 
The  mediaeval  fortress,  with  its  antiquity  of  more  than 
a  thousand  years,  and  having  dark  and  deep  dungeons 
of  its  own,  is  but  a  modern  excrescence  on  the  top  of 
Hadrian's  tomb. 

We  now  ascended  towards  the  upper  region,  and 
•were  led  into  the  vaults  which  used  to  serve  as  a  pris 
on,  but  which,  if  I  mistake  not,  are  situated  above 
the  ancient  structure,  although  they  seem  as  damp 
and  subterranean  as  if  they  were  fifty  feet  under  the 
earth.  We  crept  down  to  them  through  narrow  and 


142  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

ugly  passages,  which  the  torchlight  would  not  illumi 
nate,  and,  stooping  under  a  low,  square  entrance,  we 
followed  the  guide  into  a  small,  vaulted  room,  —  not  a 
room,  but  an  artificial  cavern,  remote  from  light  or 
air,  where  Beatrice  Cenci  was  confined  before  her  exe 
cution.  According  to  the  abbe,  she  spent  a  whole 
year  in  this  dreadful  pit,  her  trial  having  dragged  on 
through  that  length  of  time.  How  ghost-like  she 
must  have  looked  when  she  came  forth  !  Guide  never 
painted  that  beautiful  picture  from  her  blanched  face, 
as  it  appeared  after  this  confinement.  And  how  re 
joiced  she  must  have  been  to  die  at  last,  having  al 
ready  been  in  a  sepulchre  so  long  ! 

Adjacent  to  Beatrice's  prison,  but  not  communicat 
ing  with  it,  was  that  of  her  step-mother  ;  and  next  to 
the  latter  was  one  that  interested  me  almost  as  much 
as  Beatrice's,  —  that  of  Benvenuto  Cellini;  who  was 
confined  here,  I  believe,  for  an  assassination.  All 
these  prison  vaults  are  more  horrible  than  can  be  im 
agined  without  seeing  them ;  but  there  are  worse 
places  here,  for  the  guide  lifted  a  trap-door  in  one  of 
the  passages,  and  held  his  torch  down  into  an  inscru 
table  pit  beneath  our  feet.  It  was  an  oubliette,  a  dun 
geon  where  the  prisoner  might  be  buried  alive,  and 
never  come  forth  again,  alive  or  dead.  Groping  about 
among  these  sad  precincts,  we  saw  various  other 
things  that  looked  very  dismal ;  but  at  last  emerged 
into  the  sunshine,  and  ascended  from  one  platform 
and  battlement  to  another,  till  we  found  ourselves 
right  at  the  feet  of  the  Archangel  Michael.  He  has 
stood  there  in  bronze  for  I  know  not  how  many  hun- 


1858.]  ITALY.  143 

dred  years,  in  the  act  of  sheathing  a  (now)  rusty 
sword,  such  being  the  attitude  in  which  he  appeared 
to  one  of  the  popes  in  a  vision,  in  token  that  a  pes 
tilence  which  was  then  desolating  Rome  was  to  be 
stayed. 

There  is  a  fine  view  from  the  lofty  station  over 
Rome  and  the  whole  adjacent  country,  and  the  abbe 
pointed  out  the  site  of  Ardea,  of  Corioli,  of  Veii,  and 
other  places  renowned  in  story.  We  were  ushered, 
too,  into  the  French  commandant's  quarters  in  the 
castle.  There  is  a  large  hall,  ornamented  with  fres 
cos,  and  accessible  from  this  a  drawing-room,  com 
fortably  fitted  up,  and  where  we  saw  modern  furni 
ture,  and  a  chess-board,  and  a  fire  burning  clear,  and 
other  symptoms  that  the  place  had  perhaps  just  been 
vacated  by  civilized  and  kindly  people.  But  in  one 
corner  of  the  ceiling  the  abbe  pointed  out  a  ring,  by 
which,  in  the  times  of  mediaeval  anarchy,  when  popes, 
cardinals,  and  barons  were  all  by  the  ears  together,  a 
cardinal  was  hanged.  It  was  not  an  assassination, 
but  a  legal  punishment,  and  he  was  executed  in  the 
best  apartment  of  the  castle  as  an  act  of  grace. 

The  fortress  is  a  straight-lined  structure  on  the 
summit  of  the  immense  round  tower  of  Hadrian's 
tomb  ;  and  to  make  out  the  idea  of  it  we  must  throw 
in  drawbridges,  esplanades,  piles  of  ancient  marble 
balls  for  cannon  ;  battlements  and  embrasures,  lying 
high  in  the  breeze  and  sunshine,  and  opening  views 
round  the  whole  horizon  ;  accommodation  for  the  sol 
diers  ;  and  many  small  beds  in  a  large  room. 

How  much  mistaken  was  the  emperor  in  his  expec- 


144  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

tation  of  a  stately,  solemn  repose  for  his  ashes  through 
all  the  coming  centuries,  as  long  as  the  world  should 
endure !  Perhaps  his  ghost  glides  up  and  down  dis 
consolate,  in  that  spiral  passage  which  goes  from  top 
to  bottom  of  the  tomb,  while  the  barbarous  Gauls 
plant  themselves  in  his  very  mausoleum  to  keep  the 
imperial  city  in  awe. 

Leaving  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  we  drove,  still  on 
the  same  side  of  the  Tiber,  to  the  Villa  Pomfila, 
which  lies  a  short  distance  beyond  the  walls.  As  we 
passed  through  one  of  the  gates  (I  think  it  was  that 
of  San  Pancrazio)  the  abbe  pointed  out  the  spot 
where  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  was  killed  while 
attempting  to  scale  the  walls.  If  we  are  to  believe 
Beuvenuto  Cellini,  it  was  he  who  shot  the  constable. 
The  road  to  the  villa  is  not  very  interesting,  lying  (as 
the  roads  in  the  vicinity  of  Rome  often  do)  between 
very  high  walls,  admitting  not  a  glimpse  of  the 
surrounding  country ;  the  road  itself  white  and  dusty, 
with  no  verdant  margin  of  grass  or  border  of 
shrubbery.  At  the  portal  of  the  villa  we  found  many 
carriages  in  waiting,  for  the  Prince  Doria  throws 
open  the  grounds  to  all  comers,  and  on  a  pleasant 
day  like  this  they  are  probably  sure  to  be  thronged. 
We  left  our  carriage  just  within  the  entrance,  and 
rambled  among  these  beautiful  groves,  admiring  the 
live-oak  trees,  and  the  stone  pines,  which  latter  are 
truly  a  majestic  tree,  with  tall  columnar  steins, 
supporting  a  cloud-like  density  of  boughs  far  aloft, 
and  not  a  straggling  branch  between  them  and  the 
ground.  They  stand  in  straight  rows,  but  are  now 


1858.]  "  ITA1Y.  145 

so  ancient  and  venerable  as  to  have  lost  the  formal 
look  of  a  plantation,  and  seem  like  a  wood  that 
might  have  arranged  itself  almost  of  its  own  will. 
Beneath  them  is  a  flower-strewn  turf,  quite  free  of 
underbrush.  We  found  open  fields  and  lawns,  more 
over,  all  abloom  with  anemones,  white  and  rose- 
colored  and  purple  and  golden,  and  far  larger  than 
could  be  found  out  of  Italy,  except  in  hothouses. 
Violets,  too,  were  abundant  and  exceedingly  fragrant. 
When  we  consider  that  all  this  floral  exuberance 
occurs  in  the  midst  of  March,  there  does  not  appear 
much  ground  for  complaining  of  the  Roman  climate ; 
and  so  long  ago  as  the  first  week  of  February  I  found 
daisies  among  the  grass,  on  the  sunny  side  of  the 
Basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran.  At  this  very  moment  I 
suppose  the  country  within  twenty  miles  of  Boston 
may  be  two  feet  deep  with  snow,  and  the  streams 
solid  with  ice. 

We  wandered  about  the  grounds,  and  found  them 
very  beautiful  indeed ;  nature  having  done  much  for 
them  by  an  undulating  variety  of  surface,  and  art 
having  added  a  good  many  charms,  which  have  all 
the  better  effect  now  that  decay  and  neglect  have 
thrown  a  natural  grace  over  them  likewise.  There  is 
an  artificial  ruin,  so  picturesque  that  it  betrays  itself; 
weather-beaten  statues,  and  pieces  of  sculpture, 
scattered  here  and  there ;  an  artificial  lake,  with 
upgushing  fountains ;  cascades,  and  broad-bosomed 
coves,  and  long,  canal-like  reaches,  with  swans 
taking  their  delight  upon  them.  I  never  saw  such 
a  glorious  and  resplendent  lustre  of  white  as  shone 

VOL.  i.  7  j 


146    "       FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

between  the  wings  of  two  of  these  swans.  It  was 
really  a  sight  to  see,  and  not  to  be  imagined  before 
hand.  Angels,  no  doubt,  have  just  such  lustrous 
wings  as  those.  English  swans  partake  of  the  dingi- 
ness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  their  plumage  has  noth 
ing  at  all  to  be  compared  to  this  ;  in  fact,  there  is 
nothiDg  like  it  in  the  world,  unless  it  be  the  illumi 
nated  portion  of  a  fleecy,  summer  cloud. 

While  we  were  sauntering  along  beside  this  piece 

of  water,  we  were  surprised  to  see  U on  the 

other  side.  She  had  come  hither  with  E S 

and  her  two  little  brothers,  and  with  our  R ,  the 

whole  under  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Story's  nursery-maids. 

U and  E crossed,  not  over,  but  beneath  the 

water,  through  a  grotto,  and  exchanged  greetings 
with  us.  Then,  as  it  was  getting  towards  sunset  and 
cool,  we  took  our  departure ;  the  abbe,  as  we  left  the 
grounds,  taking  me  aside  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  a 
Columbarium,  which  descends  into  the  earth  to  about 
the  depth  to  which  an  ordinary  house  might  rise 
above  it.  These  grounds,  it  is  said,  formed  the  coun 
try  residence  of  the  Emperor  Galba,  and  he  was 
buried  here  after  his  assassination.  It  is  a  sad  thought 
that  so  much  natural  beauty  and  long  refinement  of 
picturesque  culture  is  thrown  away,  the  villa  being 
uninhabitable  during  all  the  most  delightful  season 
of  the  year  on  account  of  malaria.  There  is  truly  a 
curse  on  Rome  and  all  its  neighborhood. 

On  our  way  home  we  passed  by  the  great  Paolina 
fountain,  and  were  assailed  by  many  beggars  during 
the  short  time  we  stopped  to  look  at  it.  It  is  a  very 


1858.]  ITALY.  147 

copious  fountain,  but  not  so  beautiful  as  the  Trevi, 
taking  into  view  merely  the  water-gush  of  the  latter. 

March  26th.  —  Yesterday,  between  twelve  and  one, 
our  whole  family  went  to  the  Villa  Ludovisi,  the 
entrance  to  which  is  at  the  termination  of  a  street 
wThich  passes  out  of  the  Piazza  Barberini,  and  it  is  no 
very  great  distance  from  our  own  street,  Via  Porta 
Pinciana.  The  grounds,  though  very  extensive,  are 
wholly  within  the  walls  of  the  city,  which  skirt  them, 
and  comprise  a  part  of  what  were  formerly  the  gar 
dens  of  Sallust.  The  villa  is  now  the  property  of 
Prince  Piombini,  a  ticket  from  whom  procured  us 
admission.  A  little  within  the  gateway,  to  the  right, 
is  a  casino,  containing  two  large  rooms  filled  with 
sculpture,  much  of  which  is  very  valuable.  A  colossal 
head  of  Juno,  I  believe,  is  considered  the  greatest 
treasure  of  the  collection,  but  I  did  not  myself  feel  it 
to  be  so,  nor  indeed  did  I  receive  any  strong  impres 
sion  of  its  excellence.  I  admired  nothing  so  much,  I 
think,  as  the  face  of  Penelope  (if  it  be  her  face)  in  the 
group  supposed  also  to  represent  Electra  and  Orestes. 
The  sitting  statue  of  Mars  is  very  fine ;  so  is  the  Aria 
and  P^etus  ;  so  are  many  other  busts  and  figures. 

By  and  by  we  left  the  casino  and  wandered  among 
the  grounds,  threading  interminable  alleys  of  cypress, 
through  the  long  vistas  of  which  we  could  see  here 
and  there  a  statue,  an  urn,  a  pillar,  a  temple,  or 
garden-house,  or  a  bas-relief  against  the  wall.  It 
seems  as  if  there  must  have  been  a  time,  —  and  not  so 
very  long  ago,  —  when  it  was  worth  while  to  spend 
money  and  thought  upon  the  ornamentation  of 


148  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

grounds  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rome.  That  time 
is  past,  however,  and  the  result  is  very  melancholy ; 
for  great  beauty  has  been  produced,  but  it  can  be  en 
joyed  in  its  perfection  only  at  the  peril  of  one's 

life For  my  part,  and  judging  from  my  own 

experience,  I  suspect  that  the  Roman  atmosphere, 
never  wholesome,  is  always  more  or  less  poisonous. 

We  came  to  another  and  larger  casino  remote  from 
the  gateway,  in  which  the  Prince  resides  during  two 
months  of  the  year.  It  was  now  under  repair,  but  we 
gained  admission,  as  did  several  other  visitors,  and 
saw  in  the  entrance-hall  the  Aurora  of  Guercino, 
painted  in  fresco  on  the  ceiling.  There  is  beauty  in 
the  design ;  but  the  painter  certainly  was  most  un 
happy  in  his  black  shadows,  and  in  the  work  before 
us  they  give  the  impression  of  a  cloudy  and  lowering 
morning  which  is  likely  enough  to  turn  to  rain  by 
and  by.  After  viewing  the  fresco  we  mounted  by  a 
spiral  staircase  to  a  lofty  terrace,  and  found  Rome  at 
our  feet,  and,  far  off,  the  Sabine  and  Alban  moun 
tains,  some  of  them  still  capped  with  snow.  In 
another  direction  there  was  a  vast  plain,  on  the 
horizon  of  which,  could  our  eyes  have  reached  to  its 
verge,  we  might  perhaps  have  seen  the  Mediterranean 
Sea.  After  enjoying  the  view  and  the  warm  sunshine 
we  descended,  and  went  in  quest  of  the  gardens  of 
Sallust,  but  found  no  satisfactory  remains  of  them. 

One  of  the  most  striking  objects  in  the  first  casino 
was  a  group  by  Bernini,  —  Pluto,  an  outrageously 
masculine  and  strenuous  figure,  heavily  bearded, 
ravishing  away  a  little,  tender  Proserpine,  whom  he 


1858.]  ITALY.  149 

holds  aloft,  while  his  forcible  gripe  impresses  itself 
into  her  soft  virgin  flesh.  It  is  very  disagreeable, 
but  it  makes  one  feel  that  Bernini  was  a  man  of  great 
ability.  There  are  some  works  in  literature  that  bear 
an  analogy  to  his  works  in  sculpture,  when  great 
power  is  lavished  a  little  outside  of  nature,  and  there 
fore  proves  to  be  only  a  fashion,  and  not  permanently 
adapted  to  the  tastes  of  mankind. 

March  27th. — Yesterday  forenoon  my  wife  and  I 
went  to  St.  Peter's  to  see  the  pope  pray  at  the  chapel 
of  the  Holy  Sacrament.  We  found  a  good  many 
people  in  the  church,  but  not  an  inconvenient  num 
ber  ;  indeed,  not  so  many  as  to  make  any  remarkable 
show  in  the  great  nave,  nor  even  in  front  of  the 
chapel.  A  detachment  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  in  their 
strange,  picturesque,  harlequin-like  costume,  were  on 
duty  before  the  chapel,  in  which  the  wax  tapers  were 
all  lighted,  and  a  prie-dieu  was  arranged  near  the 
shrine,  and  covered  with  scarlet  velvet.  On  each 
side,  along  the  breadth  of  the  side-aisle,  were  placed 
seats,  covered  with  rich  tapestry  or  carpeting ;  and 
some  gentlemen  and  ladies  —  English,  probably,  or 
American  —  had  comfortably  deposited  themselves 
here,  but  were  compelled  to  move  by  the  guards 
before  the  pope's  entrance.  His  holiness  should  have 
appeared  precisely  at  twelve,  but  we  waited  nearly 
half  an  hour  beyond  that  time  ;  and  it  seemed  to  me 
particularly  ill-mannered  in  the  pope,  who  owes  the 
courtesy  of  being  punctual  to  the  people,  if  not  to 
St.  Peter.  By  and  by,  however,  there  was  a  stir  ;  the 
guard  motioned  to  us  to  stand  away  from  the  benches, 


150  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

against  the  backs  of  which  we  had  been  leaning ;  the 
spectators  in  the  nave  looked  towards  the  door,  as  if 
they  beheld  something  approaching;  and  first,  there 
appeared  some  cardinals,  in  scarlet  skull-caps  and 
purple  robes,  intermixed  with  some  of  the  Noble 
Guard  and  other  attendants.  It  was  not  a  very  formal 
and  stately  procession,  but  rather  straggled  onward, 
with  ragged  edges,  the  spectators  standing  aside  to 
let  it  pass,  and  merely  bowing,  or  perhaps  slightly 
bending  the  knee,  as  good  Catholics  are  accustomed 
to  do  when  passing  before  the  shrines  of  saints. 
Then,  in  the  midst  of  the  purple  cardinals,  all  of 
whom  were  gray-haired  men,  appeared  a  stout  old 
man,  with  a  white  skull-cap,  a  scarlet,  gold-em 
broidered  cape  falling  over  -his  shoulders,  and  a  white 
silk  robe,  the  train  of  which  was  borne  up  by  an 
attendant.  He  walked  slowly,  with  a  sort  of  dignified 
movement,  stepping  out  broadly,  and  planting  his 
feet  (on  which  were  red  shoes)  flat  upon  the  pave 
ment,  as  if  he  were  not  much  accustomed  to  locomo 
tion,  and  perhaps  had  known  a  twinge  of  the  gout. 
His  face  was  kindly  and  venerable,  but  not  particu* 
larly  impressive.  Arriving  at  the  scarlet-covered 
prie-dieu,  he  kneeled  down  and  took  off  his  white 
skull-cap  ;  the  cardinals  also  kneeled  behind  and  on 
either  side  of  him,  taking  off  their  scarlet  skull-caps ; 
while  the  Noble  Guard  remained  standing,  six  on  one 
side  of  his  holiness  and  six  on  the  other.  The  pope 
bent  his  head  upon  t\\Q  .prie-dieuy  and  seemed  to  spend 
three  or  four  minutes  in  prayer;  then  rose,  and  all 
the  purple  cardinals,  and  bishops,  and  priests,  of 


185S.J  ITALY.  151 

whatever  degree,  rose  behind  and  beside  him.  Next, 
he  went  to  kiss  St.  Peter's  toe ;  at  least  I  believe  he 
kissed  it,  but  I  was  not  near  enough  to  be  certain ; 
and  lastly,  he  knelt  down,  and  directed  his  devotions 
towards  the  high  altar.  This  completed  the  ceremo 
nies,  and  his  holiness  left  the  church  by  a  side  door, 
making  a  short  passage  into  the  Vatican. 

I  am  very  glad  I  have  seen  the  pope,  because  now 
he  may  be  crossed  out  of  the  list  of  sights  to  be  seen. 
His  proximity  impressed  me  kindly  and  favorably 
towards  him,  and  I  did  not  see  one  face  among  all 
his  cardinals  (in  whose  number,  doubtless,  is  his  suc 
cessor)  which  I  would  so  soon  trust  as  that  of  Pio 
Nono. 

This  morning  I  walked  as  far  as  the  gate  of  San 
Paolo,  and,  on  approaching  it,  I  saw  the  gray  sharp 
pyramid  of  Cains  Cestius  pointing  upward  close  to 
the  two  dark-brown,  battlemented  Gothic  towers  of 
the  gateway,  each  of  these  very  different  pieces  of 
architecture  looking  the  more  picturesque  for  the 
contrast  of  the  other.  Before  approaching  the  gate 
way  and  pyramid,  I  walked  onward,  and  soon  came 
in  sight  of  Monte  Testaccio,  the  artificial  hill  made 
of  potsherds.  There  is  a  gate  admitting  into  the 
grounds  around  the  hill,  and  a  road  encircling  its 
base.  At  a  distance,  the  hill  looks  greener  than  any 
other  part  of  the  landscape,  and  has  all  the  curved 
outlines  of  a  natural  hill,  resembling  in  shape  a  head 
less  sphinx,  or  Laddeback  Mountain,  as  I  used  to 
see  it  from  Lenox.  It  is  of  very  considerable  height. 
—  two  or  three  hundred  feet  at  least,  I  should  say,  — 


152  FRENCH  AXD  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

and  well  entitled,  both  by  its  elevation  and  the  space 
it  covers,  to  be  reckoned  among  the  hills  of  Rome. 
Its  base  is  almost  entirely  surrounded  with  small 
structures,  which  seem  to  be  used  as  farm-buildings. 
On  the  summit  is  a  large  iron  cross,  the  Church  hav 
ing  thought  it  expedient  to  redeem  these  shattered 
pipkins  from  the  power  of  paganism,  as  it  has  so 
many  other  Roman  ruins.  There  was  a  pathway  up 
the  hill,  but  I  did  not  choose  to  ascend  it  under  the 
hot  sun,  so  steeply  did  it  clamber  up.  There  appears 
to  be  a  good  depth  of  soil  on  most  parts  of  Monte 
Testaccio,  but  on  some  of  the  sides  you  observe 
precipices,  bristling  with  fragments  of  red  or  brown 
earthenware,  or  pieces  of  vases  of  white  unglazed 
clay;  and  it  is  evident  that  this  immense  pile  is 
entirely  composed  of  broken  crockery,  which  I  should 
hardly  have  thought  would  have  aggregated  to  such 
a  heap  had  it  all  been  thrown  here,  —  urns,  teacups, 
porcelain,  or  earthen,  —  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world. 

I  walked  quite  round  the  hill,  and  saw,  at  no  great 
distance  from  it,  the  enclosure  of  the  Protestant 
burial-ground,  which  lies  so  close  to  the  pyramid  of 
Cains  Cestius  that  the  latter  may  serve  as  a  general 
monument  to  the  dead.  Deferring,  for  the  present, 
a  visit  to  the  cemetery,  or  to  the  interior  of  the  pyra 
mid,  I  returned  to  the  gateway  of  San  Paolo,  and, 
passing  through  it,  took  a  view  of  it  from  the  outside 
of  the  city  wall.  It  is  itself  a  portion  of  the  wall, 
having  been  built  into  it  by  the  Emperor  Aurelian, 
so  that  about  half  of  it  lies  within  and  half  without. 


1858.]  ITALY.  153 

The  briek  or  red  stone  material  of  the  wall  being  so 
unlike  the  marble  of  the  pyramid,  the  latter  is  as 
distinct,  and  seems  as  insulated,  as  if  it  stood  alone 
in  the  centre  of  a  plain ;  and  really  I  do  not  think 
there  is  a  more  striking  architectural  object  in  Rome. 
It  is  in  perfect  condition,  just  as  little  ruined  or  de 
cayed  as  on  the  day  when  the  builder  put  the  last 
peak  on  the  summit ;  and  it  ascends  steeply  from 
its  base,  with  a  point  so  sharp  that  it  looks  as  if  it 
would  hardly  afford  foothold  to  a  bird.  The  marble 
was  once  white,  but  is  now  covered  with  a  gray  coat 
ing  like  that  which  has  gathered  upon  the  statues  of 
Castor  and  Pollux  on  Monte  Cavallo.  Not  one  of  the 
great  blocks  is  displaced,  nor  seems  likely  to  be 
through  all  time  to  come.  They  rest  one  upon  an 
other,  in  straight  and  even  lines,  and  present  a  vast 
smooth  triangle,  ascending  from  a  base  of  a  hundred 
feet,  and  narrowing  to  an  apex  at  the  height  of  a  hun 
dred  and  twenty-five,  the  junctures  of  the  marble 
slabs  being  so  close  that,  in  all  these  twenty  centuries, 
only  a  few  little  tufts  of  grass,  and  a  trailing  plant 
or  two,  have  succeeded  in  rooting  themselves  into 
the  interstices. 

It  is  good  and  satisfactory  to  see  anything  which, 
6eing  built  for  an  enduring  monument,  has  endured 
so  faithfully,  and  has  a  prospect  of  such  an  inter 
minable  futurity  before  it.  Once,  indeed,  it  seemed 
likely  to  be  buried  ;  for  three  hundred  years  ago  it 
had  become  covered  to  the  depth  of  sixteen  feet,  but 
the  soil  has  since  been  dug  away  from  its  base,  which 
is  now  lower  than  that  of  the  road  which  passes 


154  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

through,  the  neighboring  gate  of  San  Paolo.  Midway 
up  the  pyramid,  cut  in  the  marble,  is  an  inscription 
in  large  Roman  letters,  still  almost  as  legible  as  when 
first  wrought. 

I  did  not  return  through  the  Paolo  gateway,  but 
kept  onward,  round  the  exterior  of  the  wall,  till  I 
*  came  to  the  gate  of  San  Sebastiano.  It  was  a  hot  and 
not  a  very  interesting  walk,  with  only  a  high  bare 
wall  of  brick,  broken  by  frequent  square  towers,  on 
one  side  of  the  road,  and  a  bank  and  hedge  or  a 
garden  wall  on  the  other.  Roman  roads  are  most 
inhospitable,  offering  no  shade,  and  no  seat,  and  no 
pleasant  views  of  rustic  domiciles ;  nothing  but  the 
wheel-track  of  white  dust,  without  a  footpath  running 
by  its  side,  and  seldom  any  grassy  margin  to  refresh 
the  wayfarer's  feet. 

April  3d.  —  A  few  days  ago  we  visited  the  studio 

of  Mr.  ,  an  American,  who  seems  to  have  a  good 

deal  of  vogue  as  a  sculptor.  We  found  a  figure  of 
Pocahontas,  wrhich  he  has  repeated  several  times  j 
another,  which  he  calls  "  The  Wept  of  the  Wish-ton- 
Wish,"  a  figure  of  a  smiling  girl  playing  with  a  cat 
and  dog,  and  a  school-boy  mending  a  pen.  These  two 
last  were  the  only  ones  that  gave  me  any  pleasure,  or 
that  really  had  any  merit ;  for  his  cleverness  and 
ingenuity  appear  in  homely  subjects,  but  are  quite 
lost  in  attempts  at  a  higher  ideality.  Nevertheless, 
he  has  a  group  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  possessing  more 

merit  than  I  should  have  expected  from  Mr. ,  the 

son  reclining  his  head  on  his  father's  breast,  with  an 
expression  of  utter  weariness,  at  length  finding  perfect 


1858.]  ITALY.  155 

rest,  while  the  father  bends  his  benign  countenance 
over  him,  and  seems  to  receive  him  calmly  into  him 
self.  This  group  (the  plaster-cast  standing  beside  it) 
is  now  taking  shape  out  of  an  immense  block  of  mar 
ble,  and  will  be  as  indestructible  as  the  Laocob'n  j  an 
idea  at  once  awful  and  ludicrous,  when  we  consider 
that  it  is  at  best  but  a  respectable  production.  I  have 

since   been  told  that  Mr.  had  stolen,  adopted, 

we  will  rather  say,  the  attitude  and  idea  of  the 
group  from  one  executed  by  a  student  of  the  French 
Academy,  and  to  be  seen  there  in  plaster.* 

Mr. has  now  been  ten  years   in   Italy,  and, 

after  all  this  time,  he  is  still  entirely  American  in 
everything  but  the  most  external  surface  of  his  man 
ners  ;  scarcely  Europeanized,  or  much  modified  even 

in  that.     He  is  a  native  of ,  but  had  his  early 

breeding  in  New  York,  and  might,  for  any  polish  or 
refinement  that  I  can  discern  in  him,  still  be  a  country 
shopkeeper  in  the  interior  of  New  York  State  or  New 
England.  How  strange  !  For  one  expects  to  find  the 
polish,  the  close  grain  and  white  purity  of  marble,  in  the 
artist  who  works  in  that  noble  material ;  but,  after  all, 
he  handles  clay,  and,  judging  by  the  specimens  I  have 
seen  here,  is  apt  to  be  clay,  not  of  the  finest,  himself. 
Mr. is  sensible,  shrewd,  keen,  clever ;  an  ingeni 
ous  workman,  no  doubt ;  with  tact  enough,  and  not 
destitute  of  taste  ;  very  agreeable  and  lively  in  his 
conversation,  talking  as  fast  and  as  naturally  as  a 
brook  runs,  without  the  slightest  affectation.  His 
naturalness  is,  in  fact,  a  rather  striking  characteristic, 

*  "We  afterwards  saw  it  in  the  Medici  Casino. 


156  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

in  view  of  his  lack  of  culture,  while  yet  his  life  has 
been  concerned  with  idealities  and  a  beautiful  art. 
What  degree  of  taste  he  pretends  to,  he  seems  really 
to  possess,  nor  did  I  hear  a  single  idea  from  him  that 
struck  me  as  otherwise  than  sensible. 

He  called  to  see  us  last  evening,  and  talked  for 
about  two  hours  in  a  very  amusing  and  interesting 
style,  his  topics  being  taken  from  his  own  personal 
experience,  and  shrewdly  treated.  He  spoke  much  of 
Greenough,  whom  he  described  as  an  excellent  critic 
of  art,  but  possessed  of  not  the  slightest  inventive 
genius.  His  statue  of  Washington,  at  the  Capitol,  is 
taken  precisely  from  the  Phillian  Jupiter ;  his  Chant 
ing  Cherubs  are  copied  in  marble  from  two  figures  in 
a  picture  by  Raphael.  He  did  nothing  that  was 

original  with  himself.  ....  To-day  we  took  R , 

and  went  to  see  Miss ,  and  as  her  studio  seems 

to  be  mixed  up  with  Gibson's,  we  had  an  opportunity 
of  glancing  at  some  of  his  beautiful  works.  We  saw  a 
Venus  and  a  Cupid,  both  of  them  tinted  ;  and,  side 
by  side  with  them,  other  statues  identical  with  these, 
except  that  the  marble  was  left  in  its  pure  whiteness. 

We  found  Miss in  a  little  upper  room.  She 

has  a  small,  brisk,  wide-awake  figure,  not  ungraceful  j 
frank,  simple,  straightforward,  and  downright.  She 
had  on  a  robe,  I  think,  but  I  did  not  look  so  low,  my 
attention  being  chiefly  drawn  to  a  sort  of  man's  sack 
of  purple  or  plum-colored  broadcloth,  into  the  side- 
pockets  of  which  her  hands  were  thrust  as  she  came 
forward  to  greet  us.  She  withdrew  one  hand,  how 
ever,  and  presented  it  cordially  to  my  wife  (whom  she 


1858.]  ITALY.  157 

already  knew)  and  to  myself,  without  waiting  for  an 
introduction.  She  had  on  a  shirt-front,  collar,  and 
cravat  like  a  man's,  with  a  brooch  of  Etruscan  gold, 
and  on  her  curly  head  was  a  picturesque  little  cap  of 
black  velvet,  and  her  face  was  as  bright  and  merry, 
and  as  small  of  feature  as  a  child's.  It  looked  in  one 
aspect  youthful,  and  yet  there  was  something  worn  in 
it  too.  There  never  was  anything  so  jaunty  as  her 
movement  and  action  ;  she  was  very  peculiar,  but  she 
seemed  to  be  her  actual  self,  and  nothing  affected  or 
made  up ;  so  that,  for  my  part,  I  gave  her  full  leave  t 
to  wear  what  may  suit  her  best,  and  to  behave  as  her 
inner  woman  prompts.  I  don't  quite  see,  however, 
what  she  is  to  do  when  she  grows  older,  for  the  deco 
rum  of  age  will  not  be  consistent  with  a  costume  that 
looks  pretty  and  excusable  enough  in  a  young  woman. 

Miss led  us  into  a  part  of  the  extensive  studio, 

or  collection  of  studios,  where  some  of  her  own  works 
were  to  be  seen :  Beatrice  Cenci,  which  did  not  very 
greatly  impress  me ;  and  a  monumental  design,  a 
female  figure,  —  wholly  draped  even  to  the  stockings 
and  shoes,  —  in  a  quiet  sleep.  I  liked  this  last.  There 
was  also  a  Puck,  doubtless  full  of  fun ;  but  I  had 

hardly  time  to  glance  at  it.     Miss evidently  has 

good  gifts  in  her  profession,  and  doubtless  she  derives 
great  advantage  from  her  close  association  with  a 
consummate  artist  like  Gibson  ;  nor  yet  does  his  in 
fluence  seem  to  interfere  with  the  originality  of  her 
own  conceptions.  In  one  way,  at  least,  she  can  hardly 
fail  to  profit,  — that  is,  by  the  opportunity  of  showing 
her  Works  to  the  throngs  of  people  who  go  to  see 


158  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1358. 

Gibson's  own ;  and  these  are  just  such  people  as  an 
artist  would  most  desire  to  meet,  and  might  never  see 
in  a  lifetime,  if  left  to  himself.  I  shook  hands  with 
this  frank  and  pleasant  little  person,  and  took  leave, 
not  without  purpose  of  seeing  her  again. 

Within  a  few  days,  there  have  been  many  pilgrims 
in  Rome,  who  come  hither  to  attend  the  ceremonies 
of  holy  week,  and  to  perform  their  vows,  and  under 
go  their  penances.  I  saw  two  of  them  near  the  Forum 
yesterday,  with  their  pilgrim  staves,  in  the  fashion  of 

a  thousand  years  ago I  sat  down  on  a  bench 

near  one  of  the  chapels,  and  a  woman  immediately 
came  up  to  me  to  beg.  I  at  first  refused ;  but  she 
knelt  down  by  my  side,  instead  of  praying  to  the  saint 
prayed  to  me ;  and,  being  thus  treated  as  a  canonized 
personage,  I  thought  it  incumbent  on  me  to  be  gra 
cious  to  the  extent  of  half  a  paul.  My  wife,  some 
time  ago,  came  in  contact  with  a  pickpocket  at  the 
entrance  of  a  church  ;  and,  failing  in  his  enterprise 
upon  her  purse,  he  passed  in,  dipped  his  thieving  fin 
gers  in  the  holy  water,  and  paid  his  devotions  at  a 
shrine.  Missing  the  purse,  he  said  his  prayers,  in 
the  hope,  perhaps,  that  the  saint  would  send  him  bet 
ter  luck  another  time. 

April  10th.  —  I  have  made  no  entries  in  my  journal 
recently,  being  exceedingly  lazy,  partly  from  indispo 
sition,  as  well  as  from  an  atmosphere  that  takes  the 
vivacity  out  of  everybody.  Not  much  has  happened 
or  been  effected.  Last  Sunday,  which  was  Easter 

Sunday,  I  went  with  J to  St.  Peter's,  where  we 

arrived  at  about  nine  o'clock,  and  found  a  multitude 


1658.]  ITALY.  159 

of  people  already  assembled  in  the  church.  The  in 
terior  was  arrayed  in  festal  guise,  there  being  a  cover 
ing  of  scarlet  damask  over  the  pilasters  of  the  nave, 
from,  base  to  capital,  giving  an  effect  of  splendor,  yet 
with  a  loss  as  to  the  apparent  dimensions  of  the  in 
terior.  A  guard  of  soldiers  occupied  the  nave,  keep 
ing  open  a  wide  space  for  the  passage  of  a  procession 
that-  was  momently  expected,  and  soon  arrived.  The 
crowd  was  too  great  to  allow  of  my  seeing  it  in  detail ; 
but  I  could  perceive  that  there  were  priests,  cardinals, 
Swiss  guards,  some  of  them  with  corselets  on,  and 
by  and  by  the  pope  himself  was  borne  up  the  nave, 
high  over  the  heads  of  all,  sitting  under  a  canopy 
crowned  with  his  tiara.  He  floated  slowly  along,  and 
was  set  down  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  high  altar ; 
and  the  procession  being  broken  up,  some  of  its  scat 
tered  members  might  be  seen  here  and  there,  about 
the  church,  —  officials  in  antique  Spanish  dresses ;  Swiss 
guards,  in  polished  steel  breastplates ;  serving  men, 
in  richly  embroidered  liveries ;  officers,  in  scarlet  coats 
and  military  boots;  priests,  and  divers  other  shapes 
of  men ;  for  the  papal  ceremonies  seem  to  forego  little 
or  nothing  that  belongs  to  times  past,  while  it  includes 
everything  appertaining  to  the  present.  I  ought  to 
have  waited  to  witness  the  papal  benediction  from  the 
balcony  in  front  of  the  church ;  or,  at  least,  to  hear 
the  famous  silver  trumpets,  sounding  from  the  dome ; 

but  J grew  weary  (to  say  the  truth,  so  did  I),  and 

we  went  on  a  long  walk,  out  of  the  nearest  city  gate, 
and  back  through  the  Janiculum,  and,  finally,  home 
ward  over  the  Ponto  Rotto.  Standing  on  the  bridge, 


160  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

I  saw  the  arch  of  the  Cloaca  Maxima,  close  by  the 
Temple  of  Vesta,  with  the  water  rising  within  two  or 
three  feet  of  its  keystone. 

The  same  evening  we  went  to  Monte  Cavallo,  where, 
from  the  gateway  of  the  Pontifical  Palace,  we  saw  the 
illumination  of  St.  Peter's.  Mr.  Akers,  the  sculptor, 
had  recommended  this  position  to  us,  and  accompa 
nied  us  thither,  as  the  best  point  from  which  the  illu 
mination  could  be  witnessed  at  a  distance,  without 
the  incommodity  of  such  a  crowd  as  would  be  as 
sembled  at  the  Pincian.  The  first  illumination,  the 
silver  one,  as  it  is  called,  was  very  grand  and  delicate, 
describing  the  outline  of  the  great  edifice  and  crown 
ing  dome  in  light ;  while  the  day  was  not  yet  wholly 

departed.  As  finally  remarked,  it  seemed  like 

the  glorified  spirit  of  the  Church,  made  visible,  or,  as 
I  will  add,  it  looked  as  this  famous  and  never-to-be- 
forgotten  structure  will  look  to  the  imaginations  of 
men,  through  the  waste  and  gloom  of  future  ages, 
after  it  shall  have  gone  quite  to  decay  and  ruin  : 
the  brilliant,  though  scarcely  distinct  gleam  of  a 
statelier  dome  than  ever  was  seen,  shining  on  the 
background  of  the  night  of  Time.  This  simile  looked 
prettier  in  my  fancy  than  I  have  made  it  look  on 
paper. 

After  we  had  enjoyed  the  silver  illumination  a  good 
while,  and  when  all  the  daylight  had  given  place  to 
the  constellated  night,  the  distant  outline  of  St. 
Peter's  burst  forth,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  into  a 
starry  blaze,  being  quite  the  finest  effect  that  I  ever 
witnessed.  I  stayed  to  see  it,  however,  only  a  few 


1858.]  ITALY.  161 

minutes;  for  I  was  quite  ill  and  feverish  with  a  cold, — 
which,  indeed,  I  have  seldom  been  free  from,  since 
my  first  breathing  of  the  genial  atmosphere  of  Rome. 
This  pestilence  kept  me  within  doors  all  the  next 
day,  and  prevented  me  from  seeing  the  beautiful 
fireworks  that  were  exhibited  in  the  evening  from  the 
platform  on  the  Pincian,  above  the  Piazza  del 
Popolo. 

On  Thursday,  I  paid  another  visit  to  the  sculpture- 
gallery  of  the  Capitol,  where  I  was  particularly  struck 
with  a  bust  of  Cato  the  Censor,  who  must  have  been 
the  most  disagreeable,  stubborn,  ugly- tempered,  pig 
headed,  narrow-minded,  strong-willed  old  Roman  that 
ever  lived.  The  collection  of  busts  here  and  at  the 
Vatican  are  most  interesting,  many  of  the  individual 
heads  being  full  of  character,  and  commending  them 
selves  by  intrinsic  evidence  as  faithful  portraits  of  the 
originals.  These  stone  people  have  stood  face  to 
face  with  Caesar,  and  all  the  other  emperors,  and 
with  statesmen,  soldiers,  philosophers,  and  poets 
of  the  antique  world,  and  have  been  to  them  like 
their  reflections  in  a  mirror.  It  is  the  next  thing  to 
seeing  the  men  themselves. 

We  went  afterwards  into  the  Palace  of  the  Conser- 
vatori,  and  saw,  among  various  other  interesting 
things,  the  bronze  wolf  suckling  Romulus  and  Re 
mus,  who  sit  beneath  her  dugs,  with  open  mouths 
to  receive  the  milk. 

On  Friday,  we  all  went  to  see  the  Pope's  Palace 
on  the  Quirinal.  There  was  a  vast  hall,  and  an 
interminable  suite  of  rooms,  cased  with  marble, 


162  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

floored  with  marble  or  mosaics  or  inlaid  wood, 
adorned  with  frescos  on  the  vaulted  ceilings,  and 
many  of  them  lined  with  Gobelin  tapestry ;  not 
wofully  faded,  like  almost  all  that  I  have  hitherto 
seen,  but  brilliant  as  pictures.  Indeed,  some  of 
them  so  closely  resembled  paintings,  that  I  could 
hardly  believe  they  were  not  so ;  and  the  effect 
was  even  richer  than  that  of  oil-paintings.  In  every 
room  there  was  a  crucifix ;  but  I  did  not  see  a 
single  nook  or  corner  where  anybody  could  have 
dreamed  of  being  comfortable.  Nevertheless,  as 
a  stately  and  solemn  residence  for  his  holiness,  it 
is  quite  a  satisfactory  affair.  Afterwards,  we  went 
into  the  Pontifical  Gardens,  connected  with  the 
palace.  They  are  very  extensive,  and  laid  out  in 
straight  avenues,  bordered  with  walls  of  box,  as 
impervious  as  if  of  stone,  —  not  less  than  twenty 
feet  high,  and  pierced  with  lofty  archways,  cut 
in  the  living  wall.  Some  of  the  avenues  were 
overshadowed  with  trees,  the  tops  of  which  bent 
over  and  joined  one  another  from  either  side,  so 
as  to  resemble  a  eide-aisle  of  a  Gothic  cathedral. 
Marble  sculptures,  much  weather-stained,  and  gen 
erally  broken-nosed,  stood  along  these  stately  walks ; 
there  were  many  fountains  gushing  up  into  the 
sunshine ;  we  likewise  found  a  rich  flower-garden, 
containing  rare  specimens  of  exotic  flowers,  and 
gigantic  cactuses,  and  also  an  aviary,  with  vultures, 
doves,  and  singing  birds.  We  did  not  see  half 
the  garden,  but,  stiff  and  formal  as  its  general 
arrangement  is,  it  is  a  beautiful  place,  —  a  delight- 


1858.]  ITALY.  163 

fill,  sunny,  and  serene  seclusion.  Whatever  it  may 
be  to  the  pope,  two  young  lovers  might  find  the 
Garden  of  Eden  here,  and  never  desire  to  stray 
out  of  its  precincts.  They  might  fancy  angels 
standing  in  the  long,  glimmering  vistas  of  the 
avenues. 

It  would  suit  me  well  enough  to  have  my  daily 
walk  along  such  straight  paths,  for  I  think  them 
favorable  to  thought,  which  is  apt  to  be  disturbed  by 
variety  and  unexpectedness. 

April  1 2th.  —  We  all,  except  R ,  went  to-day 

to  the  Vatican,  where  we  found  our  way  to  the 
Stanze  of  Raphael,  these  being  four  rooms,  or 
halls,  painted  with  frescos.  No  doubt  they  were 
once  very  brilliant  and  beautiful;  but  they  have 
encountered  hard  treatment  since  Raphael's  time, 
especially  when  the  soldiers  of  the  Constable  de 
Bourbon  occupied  these  apartments,  and  made  fires 
on  the  mosaic  floors.  The  entire  walls  and  ceilings 
are  covered  with  pictures;  but  the  handiwork  or 
designs  of  Raphael  consist  of  paintings  on  the 
four  sides  of  each  room,  and  include  several  works 
of  art.  The  School  of  Athens  is  perhaps  the  most 
celebrated;  and  the  longest  side  of  the  largest 
hall  is  occupied  by  a  battle-piece,  of  which  the 
Emperor  Constantine  is  the  hero,  .and  which  covers 
almost  space  enough  for  a  real  battle-field.  There 
was  a  wonderful  light  in  one  of  the  pictures,  —  that 
of  St.  Peter  awakened  in  his  prison,  by  the  angel; 
it  really  seemed  to  throw  a  radiance  into  the  hall 
below.  I  shall  not  pretend,  however,  to  have  been 


164  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

sensible  of  any  particular  rapture  at  the  sight  of 
these  frescos ;  so  faded  as  they  are,  so  battered 
by  the  mischances  of  years,  insomuch  that,  through 
all  the  power  and  glory  of  Raphael's  designs,  the 
spectator  cannot  but  be  continually  sensible  that 
the  groundwork  of  them  is  an  old  plaster  wall. 
They  have  been  scrubbed,  I  suppose,  —  brushed,  at 
least,  —  a  thousand  times  over,  till  the  surface,  bril 
liant  or  soft,  as  Raphael  left  it,  must  have  been 
quite  rubbed  off,  and  with  it,  all  the  consummate 
finish,  and  everything  that  made  them  originally 
delightful.  The  sterner  features  remain,  the  skeleton 
of  thought,  but  not  the  beauty  that  once  clothed 
it.  In  truth,  the  frescos,  excepting  a  few  figures, 
never  had  the  real  touch  of  Raphael's  own  hand 
upon  them,  having  been  merely  designed  by  him, 
and  finished  by  his  scholars,  or  by  other  artists. 

The  halls  themselves  are  specimens  of  antique 
magnificence,  paved  with  elaborate  mosaics ;  and 
wherever  there  is  any  woodwork,  it  is  richly  carved 
with  foliage  and  figures.  In  their  newness,  and 
probably  for  a  hundred  years  afterwards,  there  could 
not  have  been  so  brilliant  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the 
world. 

Connected  with  them  —  at  any  rate,  not  far  distant 
—  is  the  little  Chapel  of  San  Lorenzo,  the  very  site 
of  which,  among  the  thousands  of  apartments  of  the 
Vatican,  was  long  forgotten,  and  its  existence  only 
known  by  tradition.  After  it  had  been  walled  up, 
however,  beyond  the  memory'  of  man,  there  was  still 
a  rumor  of  some  beautiful  frescos  by  Fra  Angelico,  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  165 

an  old  chapel  of  Pope  Nicholas  V.,  that  had  strangely 
disappeared  out  of  the  palace,  and,  search -at  length 
being  made,  it  was  discovered,  and  entered  through  a 
window.  It  is  a  small,  lofty  room,  quite  covered  over 
with  frescos  of  sacred  subjects,  both  on  the  walls  and 
ceiling,  a  good  deal  faded,  yet  pretty .  distinctly  pre 
served.  It  would  have  been  no  misfortune  to  me,  if 
the  little  old.  chapel  had  remained  still  hidden. 

We  next  issued  into  the  Loggie,  which  consist  of 
a  long  gallery,  or  arcade  or  colonnade,  the  whole 
extent  of  which  was  once  beautifully  adorned  by 
Raphael.  These  pictures  are  almost  worn  away,  and 
so  defaced  as  to  be  untraceable  and  unintelligible, 
along  the  side  wall  of  the  gallery  ;  although  traceries 
of  Arabesque,  and  compartments  where  there  seem  to 
have  been  rich  paintings,  but  now  only  an  indistin 
guishable  waste  of  dull  color,  are  still  to  be  seen.  In 
the  coved  ceiling,  however,  there  are  still  some  bright 
frescos,  in  better  preservation  than  any  others ;  not 
particularly  beautiful,  nevertheless.  I  remember  to 
have  seen  (indeed,  we  ourselves  possess  them)  a  series 
of  very  spirited  and  energetic  engravings,  old  and 
coarse,  of  these  frescos,  the  subject  being  the  Creation, 
and  the  early  Scripture  history  ;  and  I  really  think 
that  their  translation  of  the  pictures  is  better  than 
the  original.  On  reference  to  Murray,  I  find  that 
little  more  than  the  designs  is  attributed  to  Raphael, 
the  execution  being  by  Giulio  Romano  and  other 
artists. 

Escaping  from  these  forlorn  splendors,  we  went 
into  the  sculpture-gallery,  where  I  was  able  to  enjoy, 


166  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

in  some  small  degree,  two  or  three  wonderful  works 
of  art;  and  had  a  perception  that  there  were  a 
thousand  other  wonders  around  me.  It  is  as  if  the 
statues  kept,  for  the  most  part,  a  veil  about  them, 
which  they  sometimes  withdraw,  and  let  their  beauty 
gleam  upon  my  sight ;  only  a  glimpse,  or  two  or 
three  glimpses,  or  a  little  space  of  calm  enjoyment, 
and  then  I  see  nothing  but  a  discolored  marble  image 
again.  The  Minerva  Medica  revealed  herself  to-day. 
I  wonder  whether  other  people  are  more  fortunate 
than  myself,  and  can  invariably  find  their  way  to  the 
inner  soul  of  a  work  of  art.  I  doubt  it ;  they  look 
at  these  things  for  just  a  minute,  and  pass  on, 
•without  any  pang  of  remorse,  such  as  I  feel,  for 
quitting  them  so  soon  and  so  willingly.  I  am  partly 
sensible  that  some  unwritten  rules  of  taste  are  making 
their  way  into  my  mind ;  that  all  this  Greek  beauty 
has  done  something  towards  refining  me,  though  I  am 

still,  however,  a  very  sturdy  Goth 

April  15th. — Yesterday  I  went  with  J to  the 

Forum,  and  descended  into  the  excavations  at  the 
base  of  the  Capitol,  and  on  the  site  of  the  Basilica  of 
Julia.  The  essential  elements  of  old  Rome  are  there  : 
columns,  single,  or  in  groups  of  two  or  three,  still 
erect,  but  battered  and  bruised  at  some  forgotten  time 
with  infinite  pains  and  labor;  fragments  of  other 
columns  lying  prostrate,  together  with  rich  capitals 
and  friezes  ;  the  bust  of  a  colossal  female  statue,  show 
ing  the  bosom  and  upper  part  of  the  arms,  but  head 
less  ;  a  long,  winding  space  of  pavement,  forming  part 
of  the  ancient  ascent  to  the  Capitol,  still  as  firm  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  167 

solid  as  ever ;  the  foundation  of  the  Capitol  itself, 
wonderfully  massive,  built  of  immense  square  blocks 
of  stone,  doubtless  three  thousand  years  old,  and 
durable  for  whatever  may  be  the  lifetime  of  the 
world ;  the  Arch  of  Septimius  Severus,  with  bas-reliefs 
of  Eastern  wars ;  the  Column  of  Phocas,  with  the  rude 
series  of  steps  ascending  011  four  sides  to  its  pedestal ; 
the  floor  of  beautiful  and  precious  marbles  in  the 
Basilica  of  Julia,  the  slabs  cracked  across,  —  the  greater 
part  of  them  torn  up  and  removed,  the  grass  and 
weeds  growing  up  through  the  chinks  of  what  remain ; 
heaps  of  bricks,  shapeless  bits  of  granite,  and  other 
ancient  rubbish,  among  which  old  men  are  lazily 
rummaging  for  specimens  that  a  stranger  may  be  in 
duced  to  buy,  —  this  being  an  employment  that  suits 
the  indolence  of  a  modern  Roman.  The  level  of 
these  excavations  is  about  fifteen  feet,  I  should  judge, 
below  the  present  street  which  passes  through  the 
Forum,  and  only  a  very  small  part  of  this  alien  sur 
face  has  been  removed,  though  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  it  hides  numerous  treasures  of  art  and  monuments 
of  history.  Yet  these  remains  do  not  make  that  im 
pression  of  antiquity  upon  me,  which  Gothic  ruins  do; 
Perhaps  it  is  so  because  they  belong  to  quite  another 
system  of  society  and  epoch  of  time,  and  in  view  of 
them,  -we  forget  all  that  has  intervened  betwixt  them 
and  us ;  being  morally  unlike  and  disconnected  with 
them,  and  not  belonging  to  the  same  train  of  thought ; 
so  that  we  look  across  a  gulf  to  the  Roman  ages,  and 
do  not  realize  how  wide  the  gulf  is.  Yet  in  that  in 
tervening  valley  lie  Christianity,  the  Dark  Ages,  the 


1C8  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1808. 

feudal  system,  chivalry  and  romance,  and  a  deeper 
life  of  the  human  race  than  Rome  brought  to  the 
verge  of  the  gulf. 

To-day  we  went  to  the  Colonna  Palace,  where  we 
saw  some  fine  pictures,  but,  I  think,  no  masterpieces. 
They  did  not  depress  and  dishearten  me  so  much  as 
the  pictures  in  Roman  palaces  usually  do ;  for  they 
were  in  remarkably  good  order  as  regards  frames  and 
varnish  ;  indeed,  I  rather  suspect  some  of  them  had 
been  injured  by  the  means  adopted  to  preserve  their 
beauty.  The  palace  is  now  occupied  by  the  French 
Ambassador,  who  probably  looks  upon  the  pictures  as 
articles  of  furniture  and  household  adornment,  and 
does  not  choose  to  have  squares  of  black  and  forlorn 
canvas  upon  his  walls.  There  were  a  few  noble  por 
traits  by  Vandyke  ;  a  very  striking  one  by  Holbein, 
one  or  two  by  Titian,  also  by  Guercino,  and  some 
pictures  by  Rubens,  and  other  forestieri  painters, 
which  refreshed  niy  weary  eyes.  But  what  chiefly 
interested  me  was  the  magnificent  and  stately  hall  of 
the  palace ;  fifty-five  of  my  paces  in  length,  besides  a 
large  apartment  at  either  end,  opening  into  it  through 
a  pillared  space,  as  wide  as  the  gateway  of  a  city. 
The  pillars  are  of  giallo  antico,  and  there  are  pilasters 
of  the  same  all  the  way  up  and  down  the  walls,  form 
ing  a  perspective  of  the  richest  aspect,  especially  as 
the  broad  cornice  flames  writh  gilding,  and  the  spaces 
between  the  pilasters  are  emblazoned  with  heraldic 
achievements  and  emblems  in  gold,  and  there  are  Ve 
netian  looking-glasses,  richly  decorated  over  the  sur 
face  with  beautiful  pictures  of  flowers  and  Cupids, 


1858.]  ITALY.  169 

through  which  you  catch  the  gleam  of  the  mirror; 
and  two  rows  of  splendid  chandeliers  extend  from  end 
to  end  of  the  hall,  which,  when  lighted  up,  if  ever  it 
be  lighted  up,  now-a-nights,  must  be  the  most  bril 
liant  interior  that  ever  mortal  eye  beheld.  The  ceil 
ing  glows  with  pictures  in  fresco,  representing  scenes 
connected  with  the  history  of  the  Colonna  family; 
and  the  floor  is  paved  with  beautiful  marbles,  polished 
and  arranged  in  square  and  circular  compartments; 
and  each  of  the  many  windows  is  set  in  a  great  archi 
tectural  frame  of  precious  marble,  as  large  as  the  por 
tal  of  a  door.  The  apartment  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  hall  is  elevated  above  it,  and  is  attained  by  several 
marble  steps,  whence  it  must  have  been  glorious  in 
former  days  to  have  looked  down  upon  a  gorgeous 
throng  of  princes,  cardinals,  warriors,  and  ladies,  in 
such  rich  attire  as  might  be  worn  when  the  palace 
was  built.  It  is  singular  how  much  freshness  and 
brightness  it  .still  retains ;  and  the  only  objects  to 
mar  the  effect  were  some  ancient  statues  and  busts, 
not  very  good  in  themselves,  and  now  made  dreary  of 
aspect  by  their  colored  surfaces,  —  the  result  of  long 
burial  under  ground. 

In  the  room  at  the  entrance  of  the  hall  are  two 
cabinets,  each  a  wonder  in  its  way,  —  one  being  adorned 
with  precious  stones  ;  the  other  with  ivory  carvings 
of  Michael  Angelo's  Last  Judgment,  and  of  the  fres 
cos  of  Raphael's  Loggie.  The  world  has  ceased  to 
be  so  magnificent  as  it  once  was.  Men  make  no  such 
marvels  nowadays.  The  only  defect  that  I  remember 
in  this  hall  was  in  the  marble  steps  that  ascend  to 

VOL.  i.  8 


170  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  elevated  apartment  at  the  end  of  it ;  a  largo  piece 
had  been  broken  out  of  one  of  them,  leaving  a  rough 
irregular  gap  in  the  polished  marble  stair.  It  is  not 
easy  to  conceive  what  violence  can  have,  done  this, 
without  also  doing  mischief  to  all  the  other  splendor 
around  it. 

April  16^7t. — We  went  this  morning  to  the  Acade 
my  of  St.  Luke  (the  Fine  Arts  Academy  at  Home)  in 
the  Via  Bonella,  close  by  the  Forum.  We  rang  the 
bell  at  the  house  door ;  and  after  a  few  moments  it 
was  unlocked  or  unbolted  by  some  unseen  agency  from 
above,  no  one  making  his  appearance  to  admit  us. 
We  ascended  two  or  three  nights  of  stairs,  and  en 
tered  a  hall,  where  was  a  young  man,  the  eustode, 
and  two  or  three  artists  engaged  in  copying  some  of 
the  pictures.  The  collection  not  being  vastly  large, 
and  the  pictures  being  in  more  presentable  condition 
than  usual,  I  enjoyed  them  more  than  I  generally  do ; 
particularly  a  Virgin  and  Child  by  Vandyke,  where 
two  angels  are  singing  and  playing,  one  on  a  lute  and 
the  other  on  a  violin,  to  remind  the  holy  infant  of  the 
strains  he  used  to  hear  in  heaven.  It  is  one  of  the 
few  pictures  that  there  is  really  any  pleasure  in  look 
ing  at.  There  were  several  paintings  by  Titian,  most 
ly  of  a  voluptuous  character,  but  not  very  charming  ; 
also  two  or  more  by  Guide,  one  of  which,  representing 
Fortune,  is  celebrated.  They  did  not  impress  mo 
much,  nor  do  I  find  myself  strongly  drawn  towards 
Guido,  though  there  is  no  other  painter  who  seems  to 
achieve  things  so  magically  and  inscrutably  as  he 
sometimes  does.  Perhaps  it  requires  a  finer  tasto 


1858.]  ITALY.  1 71 

than  mine  to  appreciate  him ;  and  yet  I  do  appreciate 
him  so  far  as  to  see  that  his  Michael,  for  instance,  is 

perfectly  beautiful In  the   gallery,  there    are 

whole  rows  of  portraits  of  members  of  the  Academy 
of  St.  Luke,  most  of  whom-,  judging  by  their  physiog 
nomies,  were  very  commonplace  people  ;  a  fact,  which 
makes  itself  visible  in  a  portrait,  however  much  the 
painter  may  try  to  flatter  his  sitter.  Several  of  the 
pictures  by  Titian,  Paul  Veronese,  and  other  artists, 
now  exhibited  in  the  gallery,  were  formerly  kept  in  a 
secret  cabinet  in  the  Capitol,  being  considered  of  a  too 
voluptuous  character  for  the  public  eye.  I  did  not 
think  them  noticeably  indecorous,  as  compared  with  a 
hundred  other  pictures  that  are  shown  and  looked  at 
without  scruple ;  —  Calypso  and  her  nymphs,  a  knot 
of  nude  women  by  Titian,  is  perhaps  as  objectionable 
as  any.  But  even  Titian'^  flesh  tints  cannot  keep,  and 
have  not  kept  their  warmth  through  all  these  centu 
ries.  The  illusion  and  lifelikeness  effervesces  and  ex 
hales  out  of  a  picture  as  it  grows  old ;  and  we  go  on 
talking  of  a  charm  that  has  forever  vanished. 

From  St.  Luke's  we  went  to  San  Pietro,  in  Vinioli, 
occupying  a  fine  position  on  or  near  the  summit  of 
the  Esquiline  mount.  A  little  abortion  of  a  man 
(and,  by  the  by,  there  are  more  diminutive  and  ill- 
shapen  men  and  women  in  Rome  than  I  ever  saw 
elsewhere,  a  phenomenon  to  be  accounted  for,  per 
haps,  by  their  custom  of  wrapping  the  new-born  infant 
in  swaddling-clothes),  this  two-foot  abortion  hastened 
before  us,  as  we  drew  nigh,  to  summon  the  sacristan 
to  open  the  church  door.  It  was  a  needless  service, 


172  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

for  which  we  rewarded  him  with  two  baiocchi.  San 
Pietro  is  a  simple  and  noble  church,  consisting  of  a 
nave  divided  from  the  side-aisles  by  rows  of  columns, 
that  once  adorned  some  ancient  temple ;  and  its  wide, 
unencumbered  interior  affords  better  breathing  space 
than  most  churches  in  Rome.  The  statue  of  Moses 
occupies  a  niche  in  one  of  the  side-aisles  on  the  right, 
not  far  from  the  high  altar.  I  found  it  .grand  and 
sublime,  with  a  beard  flowing  down  like  a  cataract ;  a 
truly  majestic  figure,  but  not  so  benign  as  it  were 
desirable  that  such  strength  should  be.  The  horns, 
about  which  so  much  has  been  said,  are  not  a  very 
prominent  feature  of  the  statue,  being  merely  two 
diminutive  tips  rising  straight  up  over  his  forehead, 
neither  adding  to  the  grandeur  of  the  head,  nor 
detracting  sensibly  from  it.  The  whole  force  of  this 
statue  is  not  to  be  felt  in  one  brief  visit,  but  I  agree 
with  an  English  gentleman  who,  with  a  large  party, 
entered  the  church  while  we  were  there,  in  thinking 
that  Moses  has  "  very  fine  features,"  —  a  compliment 
for  which  the  colossal  Hebrew  ought  to  have  made 
the  Englishman  a  bow. 

Besides  the  Moses,  the  church  contains  some 
attractions  of  a  pictorial  kind,  which  are  reposited  in 
the  'sacristy,  into  which  we  passed  through  a  side 
door.  The  most  remarkable  of  these  pictures  is  a 
face  and  bust  of  Hope,  by  Guide,  with  beautiful  eyes 
lifted  upwards ;  it  has  a  grace  which  artists  are  con 
tinually  trying  to  get  into  their  innumerable  copies, 
but  always  without  success ;  for,  indeed,  though  noth 
ing  is  more  true  than  the  existence  of  this  charm  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  173 

the  picture,  yet  if  you  try  to  analyze  it,  or  even  look 
too  intently  at  it,  it  vanishes,  till  you  look  again  with 
more  trusting  simplicity. 

Leaving  the  church,  we  wandered  to  the  Coliseum, 
and  to  the  public  grounds  contiguous  to  them,  where 
a  score  and  more  of  French  drummers  were  beating 
each  man  his  drum,  without  reference  to  any  rub-a- 
dub  but  his  own.  This  seems  to  be  a  daily  or  period 
ical  practice  and  point  of  duty  with  them.  After 
resting  ourselves  on  one  of  the  marble  benches,  we 
came  slowly  home,  through  the  Basilica  of  Constan- 
tine,  and  along  the  shady  sides  of  the  streets  and 
piazzas,  sometimes,  perforce,  striking  boldly  through 
the  white  sunshine,  which,  however,  was  not  so  hot  as 
to  shrivel  us  up  bodily.  It  has  been  a  most  beautiful 
and  perfect  day  as  regards  weather,  clear  and  bright, 
very  warm  in  the  sunshine,  yet  freshened  throughout 
by  a  quiet  stir  in  the  air.  Still  there  is  something  in 
this  air  malevolent,  or,  at  least,  not  friendly.  The 
Romans  lie  down  and  fall  asleep  in  it,  in  any  vacant 
part  of  the  streets,  and  wherever  they  can  find  any 
spot  sufficiently  clean,  and  among  the  ruins  of  temples. 
I  would  not  sleep  in  the  open  air  for  whatever  my  life 
may  be  worth. 

On  our  way  home,  sitting  in  one  of  the  narrow 
streets,  we  saw  an  old  woman  spinning  with  a  distaff ; 
a  far  more  ancient  implement  than  the  spinning- 
wheel,  which  the  housewives  of  other  nations  have 
long  since  laid  aside. 

April  18th. — Yesterday,  at  noon,  the  whole  family 
of  us  set  out  on  a  visit  to  the  Villa  Borghese  and  its 


174  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

grounds,  the  entrance  to  which  is  just  outside  of  the 
Porta  del  Popolo.  After  getting  within  the  grounds, 
however,  there  is  a  long  walk  before  reaching  the 
casino,  and  we  found  the  sun  rather  uncomfortably 
hot,  and  the  road  dusty  and  white  in  the  sunshine ; 
nevertheless,  a  footpath  ran  alongside  of  it  most  of 
the  way  through  the  grass  and  among  the  young 
trees.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  trees  do  not  put  forth 
their  leaves  with  nearly  the  same  magical  rapidity  in 
this  southern  land  at  the  approach  of  summer,  as  they 
do  in  more  northerly  countries.  In  these  latter,  hav 
ing  a  much  shorter  time  to  develop  themselves,  they 
feel  the  necessity  of  making  the  most  of  it.  But  the 
grass,  in  the  lawns  and  enclosures  along  which  we 
passed,  looked  already  fit  to  be  mowed,  and  it  was 
interspersed  with  many  flowers. 

Saturday  being,  I  believe,  the  only  day  of  the  week 
on  which  visitors  are  admitted  to  the  casino,  there 
were  many  parties  in  carriages,  artists  on  foot,  gentle 
men  on  horseback,  and  miscellaneous  people,  to  wrhom 
the  door  was  opened  by  a  custode  on  ringing  a  bell. 
The  whole  of  the  basement  floor  of  the  casino,  com 
prising  a  suite  of  beautiful  rooms,  is  filled  with  statu 
ary.  The  entrance  hall  is  a  very  splendid  apartment, 
brightly  frescoed,  and  paved  with  ancient  mosaics, 
representing  the  combats  with  beasts  and  gladiators 
in  the  Coliseum,  curious,  though  very  rudely  and 
awkwardly  designed,  apparently  after  the  arts  had 
begun  to  decline.  Many  of  the  specimens  of  sculp 
ture  displayed  in  these  rooms  are  fine,  but  none  of 
them,  I  think,  possess  the  highest  merit.  An  Apollo 


1858.  ]  ITALY.  175 

is  beautiful ;  a  group  of  a  fighting  Amazon,  and  her 
enemies  trampled  under  her  horse's  feet,  is  very  im 
pressive  ;  a  Faun,  copied  from  that  of  Praxiteles,  and 
another,  who  seems  to  be  dancing,  were  exceedingly 
pleasant  to  look  at.  I  like  these  strange,  sweet,  play 
ful,  rustic  creatures,  ....  linked  so  prettily,  with 
out  monstrosity,  to  the  lower  tribes Their 

character  has  never,  that  I  know  of,  been  wrought  out 
in  literature  ;  and  something  quite  good,  funny,  and 
philosophical,  as  well  as  poetic,  might  very  likely  be 

educed  from  them The  faun  is  a  natural  and 

delightful  link  betwixt  human  and  brute  life,  with 
something  of  a  divine  character  intermingled. 

The  gallery,  as  it  is  called,  on  the  basement  floor  of 
the  casino,  is  sixty  feet  in  length,  by  perhaps  a  third 
as  much  in  breadth,  and  is  (after  all  I  have  seen  at 
the  Colonna  Palace  and  elsewhere)  a  more  magnificent 
hall  than  I  imagined  to  be  in  existence.  It  is  floored 
with  rich  marble  in  beautifully  arranged  compart 
ments,  and  the  walls  are  almost  entirely  cased  with 
marble  of  various  sorts,  the  prevailing  kind  being 
giallo  antico,  intermixed  with  verde  antique,  and  I 
know  not  what  else ;  but  the  splendor  of  the  giallo 
antico  gives  the  character  to  the  room,  and  the  large 
and  deep  niches  along  the  walls  appear  to  be  lined  with 
the  same  material.  Without  coming  to  Italy,  one  can 
have  no  idea  of  what  beauty  and  magnificence  are  pro 
duced  by  these  fittings  up  of  polished  marble.  Marble 
to  an  American  means  nothing  but  white  limestone. 

This  hall,  moreover,  is  adorned  with  pillars  of 
Oriental  alabaster,  and  wherever  is  a  space  vacant  of 


176  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

precious  and  richly  colored  marble  it  is  frescoed  with 
arabesque  ornaments ;  and  over  the  whole  is  a  coved 
and  vaulted  ceiling,  glowing  with  picture.  There 
never  can  be  anything  richer  than  the  whole  effect. 
As  to  the  sculpture  here  it  was  not  very  fine,  so  far 
as  I  can  remember,  consisting  chiefly  of  busts  of  the 
emperors  in  porphyry ;  but  they  served  a  good  pur 
pose  in  the  upholstery  way.  There  were  also  magnifi 
cent  tables,  each  composed  of  one  great  slab  of  por 
phyry  ;  and  also  vases  of  nero  antico,  and  other  rarest 
substance.  It  remains  to  be  mentioned  that,  on  this 
almost  summer  day,  I  was  quite  chilled  in  passing 
through  these  glorious  halls  ;  no  fireplace  anywhere ; 
no  possibility  of  comfort ;  and  in  the  hot  season,  when 
their  coolness  might  be  agreeable,  it  would  be  death 
to  inhabit  them. 

Ascending  a  long  winding  staircase,  we  arrived  at 
another  suite  of  rooms,  containing  a  good  many  not 
very  remarkable  pictures,  and  a  few  more  pieces  of 
statuary.  Among  the  latter,  is  Canova's  statue  of 
Pauline,  the  sister  of  Bonaparte,  who  is  represented 
with  but  little  drapery,  and  in  the  character  of  Venus 
holding  the  apple  in  her  hand.  It  is  admirably  done, 
and,  I  have  no  doubt,  a  perfect  likeness ;  very  beauti 
ful  too  ;  but  it  is  wonderful  to  see  how  the  artificial 
elegance  of  the  woman  of  this  world  makes  itself  per 
ceptible  in  spite  of  whatever  simplicity  she  could  find 
in  almost  utter  nakedness.  The  statue  does  not  aiford 
pleasure  in  the  contemplation. 

In  one  of  these  upper  rooms  are  some  works  of 
Bernini ;  two  of  them,  ^Eneas  and  Anchises,  and 


1858.]  ,; -,;;•:     '  ITALY.  177 

David  on  the  point  of  slinging  a  stone  at  Goliah, 
have  great  merit,  and  do  not  tear  and  rend  them 
selves  quite  out  of  the  laws  and  limits  of  marble,  like 
his  later  sculpture.  Here  is  also  his  Apollo  over 
taking  Daphne,  whose  feet  take  root,  whose  finger 
tips  sprout  into  twigs,  and  whose  tender  body 
roughens  round  about  with  bark,  as  he  embraces 
her.  It  did  not  seem  very  wonderful  to  me;  not 
so  good  as  Hillyard's  description  of  it  made  me 
expect;  and  one  does  not  enjoy  these  freaks  in 
marble. 

We  were  glad  to  emerge  from  the  casino  into  the 
warm  sunshine ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  made  the  best  of 
my  way  to  a  large  fountain,  surrounded  by  a  circular 
stone  seat  of  wide  sweep,  and  sat  down  in  a  sunny 
segment  of  the  circle.  Around  grew  a  solemn  com 
pany  of  old  trees,  —  ilexes,  I  believe, — -with  huge,  con 
torted  trunks  and  evergreen  branches,  ....  deep 
groves,  sunny  openings,  the  airy  gush  of  fountains, 
marble  statues,  dimly  visible  in  recesses  of  foliage, 
great  urns  and  vases,  terminal  figures,  temples,  —  all 
these  works  of  art  looking  as  if  they  had  stood  there 
long  enough  to  feel  at  home,  and  to  be  on  friendly  and 
familiar  terms  with  the  grass  and  trees.  It  is  a  most 
beautiful  place,  ....  and  the  Malaria  is  its  true 
master  and  inhabitant  ! 

April  22d.  —  We  have  been  recently  to  the  studio 
of  Mr.  Brown,*  the  American  landscape-painter,  and 
were  altogether  surprised  and  delighted  with  his 
pictures.  He  is  a  plain,  homely  Yankee,  quite  unpol- 

*  Now  dead. 
8*  L 


178  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1658. 

ished  by  his  many  years'  residence  in  Italy ;  he  talks 
ungrammatically,  and  in  Yankee  idioms ;  walks  with  a 
strange,  awkward  gait  and  stooping  shoulders;  is  alto 
gether  unpicturesque ;  but  wins  one's  confidence  by 
his  very  lack  of  grace.  It  is  not  often  that  we  see  an 
artist  so  entirely  free  from  affectation  in  his  aspect 
and  deportment.  His  pictures  were  views  of  Swiss 
and  Italian  scenery,  and  were  most  beautiful  and  true. 
One  of  them,  a  moonlight  picture,  was  really  magical,  — 
the  moon  shining  so  brightly  that  it  seemed  to  throw 
a  light  even  beyond  the  limits  of  the  picture,  —  and 
yet  his  sunrises  and  sunsets,  and  noontides  too,  were 
nowise  inferior  to  this,  although  their  excellence  re 
quired  somewhat  longer  study,  to  be  fully  appreciated. 
I  seemed  to  receive  more  pleasure  from  Mr.  Brown's 
pictures  than  from  any  of  the  landscapes  by  the  old 
masters  ;  and  the  fact  serves  to  strengthen  me  in  the 
belief  that  the  most  delicate  if  not  the  highest  charm 
of  a  picture  is  evanescent,  and  that  we  continue  to 
admire  pictures  prescriptively  and  by  tradition,  after 
the  qualities  that  first  won  them  their  fame  have 
vanished.  I  suppose  Claude  was  a  greater  landscape- 
painter  than  Brown  ;  but  for  my  own  pleasure  I  would 
prefer  one  of  the  latter  artist's  pictures,  —  those  of  the 
former  being  quite  changed  from  what  he  intended 
them  to  be  by  the  effect  of  time  on  his  pigments.  Mr. 
Brown  showed  us  some  drawings  from  nature,  done 
with  incredible  care  and  minuteness  of  detail,  as  studies 
for  his  paintings.  We  complimented  him  on  his 
patience  ;  but  he  said,  "  O,  it 's  not  patience,  —  it 's 
love  ! "  In  fa.t,  it  was  a  patient  and  most  successful 


1858.]-  ITALY.  179 

wooing  of  a  beloved  object,  which  at  last  rewarded 
him  by  yielding  itself  wholly. 

We  have  likewise  been  to  Mr.  B — — 's*  studio, 
where  we  saw  several  pretty  statues  and  busts,  and 
among  them  an  Eve,  with  her  wreath  of  fig-leaves 
lying  across  her  poor  nudity ;  comely  in  some  points, 
but  with  a  frightful  volume  of  thighs  and  calves.  I 
do  not  altogether  see  the  necessity  of  ever  sculpturing 
another  nakedness.  Man  is  no  longer  a  naked  animal; 
his  clothes  are  as  natural  to  him  as  his  skin,  and  sculp 
tors  have  no  more  right  to  undress  him  than  to  flay  him. 

Also,  we  have  seen  again  William  Story's  Cleo 
patra,  —  a  work  of  genuine  thought  and  energy,  rep 
resenting  a  terribly  dangerous  woman ;  quite  enough 
for  the  moment,  but  very  likely  to  spring  upon  you 
like  a  tigress.  It  is  delightful  to  escape  to  his 
creations  from  this  universal  prettiness,  which  seems 
to  be  the  highest  conception  of  the  crowd  of  modern 
sculptors,  and  which  they  almost  invariably  attain. 

Miss  Bremer  called  on  us  the  other  day.  We  find 
her  very  little  changed  from  what  she  was  when  she 
came  to  take  tea  and  spend  an  evening  at  our  little 
red  cottage,  among  the  Berkshire  hills,  and  went 
away  so  dissatisfied  with  my  conversational  perform 
ances,  and  so  laudatory  of  my  brow  and  eyes,  while 
so  severely  criticizing  my  poor  mouth  and  chin.  She 
is  the  funniest  little  old  fairy  in  person  whom  one 
can  imagine,  with  a  huge  nose,  to  which  all  the  rest 
of  her  is  but  an  insufficient  appendage ;  but  you  feel 
at  once  that  she  is  most  gentle,  kind,  womanly, 

*  Now  dead. 


180     FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.   [l85». 

sympathetic,  and  true.  She  talks  English  fluently, 
in  a  low  quiet  voice,  but  with  such  an  accent  that  it 
is  impossible  to  understand  her  without  the  closest 
attention.  This  was  the  real  cause  of  the  failure  of 
our  Berkshire  interview ;  for  I  could  not  guess,  half 
the  time,  what  she  was  saying,  and,  of  course,  had  to 
take  an  uncertain  aim  with  my  responses.  A  more 
intrepid  talker  than  myself  would  have  shouted  his 
ideas  across  the  gulf;  but,  for  me,  there  must  first 
be  a  close  and  unembarrassed  contiguity  with  my 
companion,  or  I  cannot  say  one  real  word.  I  doubt 
•whether  I  have  ever  really  talked  with  half  a  dozen 
persons  in  my  life,  either  men  or  women. 

To-day  my  wife  and  I  have  been  at  the  picture  and 
sculpture  galleries  of  the  Capitol.  I  rather  enjoyed 
looking  at  several  of  the  pictures,  though  at  this 
moment  I  particularly  remember  only  a  very  beautiful 
face  of  a  man,  one  of  two  heads  on  the  same  canvas, 
by  Vandyke.  Yes;  I  did  look  with  new  admiration 
at  Paul  Veronese's  "  Rape  of  Europa."  It  must  have 
been,  in  its  day,  the  most  brilliant  and  rejoicing 
picture,  the  most  voluptuous,  the  most  exuberant,  that 
ever  put  the  sunshine  to  shame.  The  bull  has  all 
Jupiter  in  him,  so  tender  and  gentle,  yet  so  passionate, 
that  you  feel  it  indecorous  to  look  at  him ;  and 
Europa,  under  her  thick,  rich  stuffs  and  embroideries, 
is  all  a  woman.  What  a  pity  that  such  a  picture 
should  fade,  and  perplex  the  beholder  with  such 
splendor,  shining  through  such  forlornness  ! 

We  afterwards  went  into  the  sculpture-gallery, 
where  I  looked  at  the  Faun  of  Praxiteles,  and  was 


1858.]  ITALY.  181 

sensible  of  a  peculiar  charm  in  it;  a  sylvan  beauty 
and  homeliness,  friendly  and  wild  at  once.  The 
lengthened,  but  not  preposterous  ears,  and  the  little 
tail,  which  we  infer,  have  an  exquisite  effect,  and 
make  the  spectator  smile  in  his  very  heart.  This 
race  of  fauns  Avas  the  most  delightful  of  all  that 
antiquity  imagined.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  story, 
with  all  sorts  of  fun  and  pathos  in  it,  might  be  con 
trived  on  the  idea  of  their  species  having  become 
intermingled  with  the  human  race ;  a  family  with  the 
faun  blood  in  them,  having  prolonged  itself  from  the 
classic  era  till  our  own  days.  The  tail  might  have 
disappeared,  by  dint  of  constant  intermarriages  with 
ordinary  mortals ;  but  the  pretty  hairy  ears  should 
occasionally  reappear  in  members  of  the  family ;  and 
the  moral  instincts  and  intellectual  characteristics  of 
£he  faun  might  be  most  picturesquely  brought  out, 
without  detriment  to  the  human  interest  of  the  story. 
.Fancy  this  combination  in  the  person  of  a  young  lady  ! 

I  have  spoken  of  Mr.  Gibson's  colored  statues.  It 
seems  (at  least  Mr.  Nichols  tells  me)  that  he  stains 

them  with  tobacco  juice Were  he  to  send  a 

Cupid  to  America,  he  need  not  trouble  himself  to 
stain  it  beforehand. 

April  25th.  —  Night  before  last,  my  wife  and  I  took 
a  moonlight  ramble  through  Rome,  it  being  a  very 
beautiful  night,  warm  enough  for  comfort,  and  with 
no  perceptible  dew  or  dampness.  We  set  out  at 
about  nine  o'clock,  and,  our  general  direction  being 
towards  the  Coliseum,  we  soon  came  to  the  Fountain 
of  Trevi,  full  on  the  front  of  which  the  moonlight  fell, 


182  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS         [1858. 

making  Bernini's  sculptures  look  stately  and  beautiful, 
though  the  semicircular  gush  and  fall  of  the  cascade, 
and  the  many  jets  of  the  water,  pouring  and  bubbling 
into  the  great  marble  basin,  are  of  far  more  account 
than  Neptune  and  his  steeds,  and  the  rest  of  the 
figures 

We  ascended  the  Capitoline  Hill,  and  I  felt  a  satis 
faction  in  placing  my  hand  on  those  immense  blocks 
of  stone,  the  remains  of  the  ancient  Capitol,  which 
form  the  foundation  of  the  present  edifice,  and  will 
make  a  sure  basis  for  as  many  edifices  as  posterity 
may  choose  to  rear  upon  it,  till  the  end  of  the  world. 
It  is  wonderful,  the  solidity  with  which  those  old 
Romans  built ;  one  would  suppose  they  contem 
plated  the  whole  course  of  Time  as  the  only  limit  of 
their  individual  life.  This  is  not  so  strange  in  the 
days  of  the  Republic,  when,  probably,  they  believed 
in  the  permanence  of  their  institutions ;  •  but  they  still 
seemed  to  build  for  eternity,  in  the  reigns  of  the 
emperors,  when  neither  rulers  nor  people  had  any 
faith  or  moral  substance,  or  laid  any  earnest  grasp  on 
life. 

Reaching  the  top  of  the  Capitoline  Hill,  we  ascended 
the  steps  of  the  portal  of  the  Palace  of  the  Sen 
ator,  and  looked  down  into  the  piazza,  with  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius  in  the  centre  of 
it.  The  architecture  that  surrounds  the  piazza  is 
very  ineffective ;  and  so,  in  my  opinion,  are  all  the 
other  architectural  works  of  Michael  Angelo,  in 
cluding  St.  Peter's  itself,  of  which  he  has  made  as 
little  as  could  possibly  be  made  of  such  a  vast  pile  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  183 

material.  He  balances  everything  in  such  a  way  that 
it  seems  but  half  of  itself. 

We  soon  descended  into  the  piazza,  and  walked 
round  and  round  the  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  con 
templating  it  from  every  point  and  admiring  it  in  all. 
....  On  these  beautiful  moonlight  nights,  Rome 
appears  to  keep  awake  and  stirring,  though  in  a  quiet 
and  decorous  way.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  pleasantest  time 
for  promenades,  and  we  both  felt  less  wearied  than  by 
any  promenade  in  the  daytime,  of  similar  extent,  since 
our  residence  in  Rome.  In  future>  I  mean  to  walk 
often  after  nightfall. 

Yesterday,  we  set  out  betimes,  and  ascended  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter's.  The  best  view  of  the  interior  of 
the  church,  I  think,  is  from  the  first  gallery  beneath 
the  dome.  The  whole  inside  of  the  dome  is  set  with 
mosaic-work,  the  separate  pieces  being,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  about  half  an  inch  square.  Emerging  on 
the  roof,  we  had  a  fine  view  of  all  the  surrounding 
Rome,  including  the  Mediterranean  Sea  in  the  remote 
distance.  Above  us  still  rose  the  whole  mountain  of 
the  great  dome,  and  it  made  an  impression  on  me  of 
greater  height  and  size  than  I  had  yet  been  able  to 
receive.  The  copper  ball  at  the  summit  looked  hardly 
bigger  than  a  man  could  lift ;  and  yet,  a  little  while 

afterwards,  U ,  J ,  and  I  stood  all  together  in 

that  ball,  which  could  have  contained  a  dozen  more 
along  with  us.  The  esplanade  of  the  roof  is,  of 
course,  very  extensive ;  and  along  the  front  of  it  are 
ranged  the  statues  which  we  see  from  below,  and 
which,  on  nearer  examination,  prove  to  be  roughly 


184  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

hewn  giants.  There  is  a  small  house  on  the  roof, 
where,  probably,  the  custodes  of  this  part  of  the 
edifice  reside ;  and  there  is  a  fountain  gushing  abun 
dantly  into  a  stone  trough,  that  looked  like  an  old 
sarcophagus.  It  is  strange  where  the  water  comes 
from  at  such  a  height.  The  children  tasted  it,  and 
pronounced  it  very  warm  and  disagreeable.  After 
taking  in  the  prospect  on  all  sides  we  rang  a  bell, 
which  summoned  a  man,  who  directed  us  towards  a 
door  in  the  side  of  the  dome,  where  a  custode  was 
waiting  to  admit  us.  Hitherto  the  ascent  had  been 
easy,  along  a  slope  without  stairs,  up  which,  I  believe, 
people  sometimes  ride  on  donkeys.  The  rest  of  the 
way  we  mounted  steep  and  narrow  staircases,  winding 
round  within  the  wall,  or  between  the  two  walls  of  the 
dome,  and  growing  narrower  and  steeper,  till,  finally, 
there  is  but  a  perpendicular  iron  ladder,  by  means  of 
which  to  climb  into  the  copper  ball.  Except  through 
email  windows  and  peep-holes,  there  is  no  external 
prospect  of  a  higher  point  than  the  roof  of  the  church. 
Just  beneath  the  ball  there  is  a  circular  room  capable 
of  containing  a  large  company,  and  a  door  which 
ought  to  give  access  to  a  gallery  on  the  outside  ;  but 
the  custode  informed  us  that  this  door  is  never  opened. 

As  I  have  said,  U ,  J ,  and  I  clambered  into 

the  copper  ball,  which  we  found  as  hot  as  an  oven ; 
and,  after  putting  our  hands  on  its  top,  and  on  the 
summit  of  St.  Peter's,  were  glad  ta  clamber  down 
again.  I  have  made  some  mistake,  after  all,  in  my 
narration.  There  certainly  is  a  circular  balcony  at 
the  top  of  the  dome,  for  I  remember  walking  round 


1858.]  ITALY.  185 

it,  and  looking,  not  only  across  the  country,  but  down 
wards  along  the  ribs  of  the  dome ;  to  which  are 
attached  the  iron  contrivances  for  illuminating  it  on 

Easter  Sunday 

Before  leaving  the  church  we  went  to  look  at  the 
mosaic  copy  of  the  "  Transfiguration,"  because  we  were 
going  to  see  the  original  in  the  Vatican,  and  wished 
to  compare  the  two.  Going  round  to  the  entrance  of 
the  Vatican,  we  went  first  to  the  manufactory  of 
mosaics,  to  which  we  had  a  ticket  of  admission.  We 
found  it  a  long  series  of  rooms,  in  which  the  mosaic 
artists  were  at  work,  chiefly  in  making  some  medal 
lions  of  the  heads  of  saints  for  the  new  church  of 
St.  Paul's.  It  was  rather  coarse  work,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  mosaic  copy  was  somewhat  stiffer  and 
more  wooden  than  the  original,  the  bits  of  stone  not 
flowing  into  color  quite  so  freely  as  paint  from  a 
brush.  There  was  no  large  picture  now  in  process 
of  being  copied  ;  but  two  or  three  artists  were  em 
ployed  on  small  and  delicate  subjects.  One  had  a 
Holy  Family  of  Raphael  in  hand ;  and  the  Sibyls  of 
Guercino  and  Domenichino  were  hanging  on  the 
wall,  apparently  ready  to  be  put  into  mosaic. 
Wherever  great  skill  and  delicacy,  on  the  artists' 
part,  were  necessary,  they  seemed  quite  adequate 
to  the  occasion ;  but,  after  all,  a  mosaic  of  any 
celebrated  picture  is  but  a  copy  of  a  copy.  The 
substance  employed  is  a  stone-paste,  of  innumerable 
different  veins,  and  in  bits  of  various  sizes,  quanti 
ties  of  which  were  seen  in  cases  along  the  whole 
series  of  rooms. 


186  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

We  next  ascended  an  amazing  height  of  staircases, 
and  walked  along  I  know  not  what  extent  of  passa 
ges,  ....  till  we  reached  the  picture-gallery  of  the 
Vatican,  into  which  I  had  never  been  before.  There 
are  but  three  rooms,  all  lined  with  red  velvet,  on 
which  hung  about  fifty  pictures,  each  one  of  them, 
no  doubt,  worthy  to  be  considered  a  masterpiece. 
In  the  first  room  were  three  Murillos,  all  so  beauti 
ful  that  I  could  have  spent  the  day  happily  in  look 
ing  at  either  of  them ;  for,  methinks,  of  all  painters 
he  is  the  tenderest  and  truest.  I  could  not  enjoy 
these  pictures  now,  however,  because  in  the  next 
room,  and  visible  through  the  open  door,  hung  the 
"  Transfiguration."  Approaching  it,  I  felt  that  the 
picture  was  worthy  of  its  fame,  and  was  far  better 
than  I  could  at  once  appreciate ;  admirably  preserved, 
too,  though  I  fully  believe  it  must  have  possessed 
a  charm  when  it  left  Raphael's  hand  that  has  now 
vanished  forever.  As  church  furniture  and  an  ex 
ternal  adornment,  the  mosaic  copy  is  preferable  to 
the  original,  but  no  copy  could  ever  reproduce  all 
the  life  and  expression  which  we  see  here.  Opposite 
to  it  hangs  the  "  Communion  of  St.  Jerome,"  the  aged, 
dying  saint,  half  torpid  with  death  already,  partaking 
of  the  sacrament,  and  a  sunny  garland  of  cherubs  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  picture,  looking  down  upon  him, 
and  quite  comforting  the  spectator  with  the  idea  that 
the  old  man  needs  only  to  be  quite  dead  in  order  to 
flit  away  with  them.  As  for  the  other  pictures  I  did 
but  glance  at,  and  have  forgotten  them. 

The  "Transfiguration"  is  finished  with  great  minute- 


1858.]  ITALY.  187 

ness  and  detail,  the  weeds  and  blades  of  grass  in 
the  foreground  being  as  distinct  as  if  they  were 
growing  in  a  natural  soil.  A  partly  decayed  stick 
of  wood  with  the  bark  is  likewise  given  in  close 
imitation  of  nature.  The  reflection  of  a,  foot  of  one 
of  the  apostles  is  seen  in  a  pool  of  water  at  the  verge 
of  the  picture.  One  or  two  heads  and  arms  seem, 
almost  to  project  from  the  canvas.  There  is  great 
lifelikeness  and  reality,  as  well  as  higher  qualities. 
The  face  of  Jesus,  being  so  high  aloft  and  so  small 
in  the  distance,  I  could  not  well  see ;  but  I  am  im 
pressed  with  the  idea  that  it  looks  too  much  like 
human  flesh  and  blood  to  be  in  keeping  with  the 
celestial  aspect  of  the  figure,  or  with  the  probabilities 
of  the  seene,  when  the  divinity  and  immortality  of 
the  Saviour  beamed  from  within  him  through  the 
earthly  features  that  ordinarily  shaded  him.  As 
regards  the  composition  of  the  picture,  I  am  not 
convinced  of  the  propriety  of  its  being  in  two  so 
distinctly  separate  parts,  —  the  upper  portion  not 
thinking  of  the  lower,  and  the  lower  portion  not 
being  aware  of  the  higher.  It  symbolizes,  however, 
the  spiritual  shortsightedness  of  mankind  that,  amid 
the  trouble  and  grief  of  the  lower  picture,  not  a 
single  individual,  either  of  those  who  seek"  help  or 
those  who  would  willingly  afford  it,  lifts  his  eyes 
to  that  region,  one  glimpse  of  which  would  set 
everything  right.  One  or  two  of  the  disciples  point 
upward,  but  without  really  knowing  what  abundance 
of  help  is  to  be  had  there. 

April  27th. — To,-day  we  have  all  been  with  Mr. 


188  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

Akers  to  some  studios  of  painters  ;  first  to  that  of  Mr. 
Wilde,  an  artist  originally  from  Boston.  His  pictures 
are  principally  of  scenes  from  Venice,  and  are  miracles 
of  color,  being  as  bright  as  if  the  light  were  trans 
mitted  through  rubies  and  sapphires.  And  yet,  after 
contemplating  them  awhile,  we  became  convinced  that 
the  painter  had  not  gone  in  the  least  beyond  nature," 
but,  on  the  contrary,  had  fallen  short  of  brilliancies 
which  no  palette,  or  skill,  or  boldness  in  using  color, 
could  attain.  I  do  not  quite  know  whether  it  is  best 
to  attempt  these  things.  They  may  be  found  in 
nature,  no  doubt,  but  always  so  tempered  by  what 
surrounds  them,  so  put  out  of  sight  even  while  they 
seem  full  before  our  eyes,  that  we  question  the 
accuracy  of  a  faithful  reproduction  of  them  on  canvas. 
There  was  a  picture  of  sunset,  the  whole  sky  of  which 
would  have  outshone  any  gilded  frame  that  could 
have  been  put  around  it.  There  was  a  most  gorgeous 
sketch  of  a  handful  of  weeds  and  leaves,  such  as  may 
be  seen  strewing  acres  of  forest-ground  in  an  American 
autumn.  I  doubt  whether  any  other  man  has  ever 
ventured  to  paint  a  picture  like  either  of  these  two, 
the  Italian  sunset  or  the  American  autumnal  foliage. 
Mr.  Wilde,  who  is  still  young,  talked  with  genuine 
feeling  and  enthusiasm  of  his  art,  and  is  certainly  a 
man  of  genius. 

We  next  went  to  the  studio  of  an  elderly  Swiss 
artist,  named  Miiller,  I  believe,  where  we  looked  at  a 
great  many  water-color  and  crayon  drawings  of  scenes 
in  Italy,  Greece,  and  Switzerland.  The  artist  was  a 
quiet,  respectable,  somewhat  heavy  -looking  old  gentle- 


1858.]  ITALY.  189 

man,  from  whose  aspect  one  would  expect  a  plodding 
pertinacity  of  character  rather  than  quickness  of  sen 
sibility.  He  must  have  united  both  these  qualities, 
however,  to  produce  such  pictures  as  these,  such 
faithful  transcripts  of  whatever  Nature  has  most 
beautiful  to  show,  and  which  she  shows  only  to  those 
who  love  her  deeply  and  patiently.  They  are  wonder 
ful  pictures,  compressing  plains,  seas,  and  mountains, 
with  miles  and  miles  of  distance,  into  the  space  of  a 
foot  or  two  without  crowding  anything  or  leaving  out 
a  feature,  and  diffusing  the  free,  blue  atmosphere 
throughout.  The  works  of  the  English  water-color 
artists  which  I  saw  at  the  Manchester  Exhibition 
seemed  to  me  nowise  equal  to  these.  Now,  here  are 
three  artists,  Mr.  Browne,  Mr.  Wilde,  and  Mr.  Miiller, 
who  have  smitten  me  with  vast  admiration  within 
these  few  days  past,  while  I  am  continually  turning 
away  disappointed  from  the  landscapes  of  the  most 
famous  among  the  old  masters,  unable  to  find  any 
charm  or  illusion  in  them.  Yet  I  suppose  Claude, 
Poussin,  and  Salvator  Rosa  must  have  won  their 
renown  by  real  achievements.  But  the  glory  of  a 
picture  fades  like  that  of  a  flower. 

Contiguous  to  Mr.  Miiller's  studio  was  that  of  a 
young  German  artist,  not  long  resident  in  Rome,  and 
Mr.  Akers  proposed  that  we  should  go  in  there,  as  a 
matter  of  kindness  to  the  young  man,  who  is  scarcely 
known  at  all,  and  seldom  has  a  visitor  to  look  at  his 
pictures.  His  studio  comprised  his  whole  establish 
ment  ;  for  there  was  his  little  bed,  with  its  white 
drapery,  in  a  corner  of  the  small  room,  and  his  dress- 


190  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE -BOOKS.        [1858. 

ing-table,  with  its  brushes  and  combs,  while  the  easel 
and  the  few  sketches  of  Italian  scenes  and  figures 
occupied  the  foreground.  I  did  not  like  his  pictures 
very  well,  but  would  gladly  have  bought  them  all  if  I 
could  have  afforded  it,  the  artist  looked  so  cheerful, 
patient,  and  quiet,  doubtless  amidst  huge  discourage 
ment.  He  is  probably  stubborn  of  purpose,  and  is 
the  sort  of  man  who  will  improve  with  every  year  of 
his  life.  We  could  not  speak  his  language,  and  were 
therefore  spared  the  difficulty  of  paying  him  any  com 
pliments  ;  but  Miss  Shepard  said  a  few  kind  words  to 
him  in  German,  and  seemed  quite  to  win  his  heart, 
insomuch  that  he  followed  her  with  bows  and  smiles  a 
long  way  down  the  staircase.  It  is  a  terrible  business, 
this  looking  at  pictures,  whether  good  or  bad,  in  the 
presence  of  the  artists  who  paint  them ;  it  is  as  great 
a  bore  as  to  hear  a  poet  read  his  own  verses.  It  takes 
away  all  my  pleasure  in  seeing  the  pictures,  and  even 
makes  me  question  the  genuineness  of  the  impressions 
which  I  receive  from  them. 

After  this  latter  visit  Mr.  Akers  conducted  us  to 
the  shop  of  the  jeweller  Castellani,  who  is  a  great 
reproducer  of  ornaments  in  the  old  Roman  and  Etrus 
can  fashion.  These  antique  styles  are  very  fashion 
able  just  now,  and  some  of  the  specimens  he  showed 
us  were  certainly  very  beautiful,  though  I  doubt 
whether  their  quaintness  and  old-time  curiousness,  as 
patterns  of  gewgaws  dug  out  of  immemorial  tombs,  bo 
not  their  greatest  charm.  We  saw  the  toilet-case  of 
an  Etruscan  lady,  —  that  is  to  say,  a  modern  imitation 
of  it,  —  with  her  rings  for  summer  and  winter,  and  foi 


1858.]  ITALY.  191 

every  day  of  the  week,  and  for  thumb  and  fingers ;  her 
ivory    comb  ;  her   bracelets ;    and   more  knick-knacks 
than  I  can  half  remember.     Splendid  things   of  our 
own  time  were  likewise  shown  us ;  a  necklace  of  dia 
monds  worth  eighteen  thousand  scudi,  together  with 
emeralds   and    opals    and   great    pearls.     Finally   we 
came  away,  and  my  wife  and  Miss  Shepard  were  taken 
up  by  the  Misses  Weston,  who  drove  with  them  to 
visit  the  Villa  Albani.     During  their  drive  my  wife 
happened  to  raise  her  arm,  and  Miss  Shepard  espied  a 
little  Greek  cross  of  gold  which  had  attached  itself  to 
the  lace  of  her  sleeve Pray  heaven  the  jewel 
ler  may  not  discover  his  loss  before  we  have  time  to 
restore  the  spoil !     He  is  apparently  so  free  and  care 
less  in  displaying  his  precious  wares,  —  putting  inesti 
mable  gems    and  brooches  great  and  small  into  the 
hands  of  strangers  like  ourselves,  and  leaving  scores  of 
them  strewn  on  the  top  of  his  counter,  —  that  it  would 
seem  easy  enough  to  take  a  diamond  or  two ;  but  I 
suspect  there  must  needs  be  a  sharp  eye  somewhere. 
Before  we  left  the  shop  he  requested  me  to  honor  him 
with  my  autograph  in  a  large  book  that  was  full  of 
the  names  of  his  visitors.     This  is  probably  a  measure 
of  precaution. 

April  30tk.  —  I  went  yesterday  to  the  sculpture- 
gallery  of  the  Capitol,  and  looked  pretty  thoroughly 
through  the  busts  of  the  illustrious  men,  and  less  par 
ticularly  at  those  of  the  emperors  and  their  relatives. 
I  likewise  took  particular  note  of  the  Faun  of  Praxi 
teles,  because  the  idea  keeps  recurring  to  me  of  writ 
ing  a  little  romance  about  it,  and  for  that  reason  I 


J92  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

shall  endeavor  to  set  down  a  somewhat  minutely  item 
ized  detail  of  the  statue  and  its  surroundings 

We  have  had  beautiful  weather  for  two  or  three 
days,  very  warm  in  the  sun,  yet  always  freshened  by 
the  gentle  life  of  a  breeze,  and  quite  cool  enough  the 
moment  you  pass  within  the  limit  of  the  shade 

In  the  morning  there  are  few  people  there  (on  the 
Pincian)  except  the  gardeners,  lazily  trimming  the 
borders,  or  filling  their  watering-pots  out  of  the  mar 
ble-brimmed  basin  of  the  fountain ;  French  soldiers, 
in  their  long  mixed-blue  surtouts,  and  wide  scarlet 
pantaloons,  chatting  with  here  and  there  a  nursery 
maid  and  playing  with  the  child  in  her  care ;  and 
perhaps  a  few  smokers,  ....  choosing  each  a  marble 
seat  or  wooden  bench  in  sunshine  or  shade  as  best 
suits  him.  In  the  afternoon,  especially  within  an 
hour  or  two  of  sunset,  the  gardens  are  much  more 
populous,  and  the  seats,  except  when  the  sun  falls 
full  upon  them,  are  hard  to  come  by.  Ladies  arrive 
in  carriages,  splendidly  dressed ;  children  are  abun 
dant,  much  impeded  in  their  frolics,  and  rendered  stiff 
and  stately  by  the  finery  which  they  wear;  English 
gentlemen,  and  Americans  with  their  wives  and  fami 
lies  ;  the  flower  of  the  Roman  population,  too,  both 
male  and  female,  mostly  dressed  with  great  nicety ; 
but  a  large  intermixture  of  artists,  shabbily  pictu 
resque  ;  and  other  persons,  not  of  the  first  stamp.  A 
French  band,  comprising  a  great  many  brass  instru 
ments,  by  and  by  begins  to  play ;  and  what  with 
music,  sunshine,  a  delightful  atmosphere,  flowers, 
grass,  well-kept  pathways,  bordered  with  box-hedges, 


1853.]  ITALY.  193 

pines,  cypresses,  horse-chestnuts,  flowering  shrubs,  and 
all  manner  of  cultivated  beauty,  the  scene  is  a  very 
lively  and  agreeable  one.  The  fine  equipages  that 
drive  round  and  round  through  the  carriage-paths  are 
another  noticeable  item.  The  Roman  aristocracy  aro 
magnificent  in  their  aspect,  driving  abroad  with  beau 
tiful  horses,  and  footmen  in  rich  liveries,  sometimes  as 
many  as  three  behind  and  one  sitting  by  the  coach 
man. 

May  1st.  — This  morning,  I  wandered  for  the  thou 
sandth  time  through  some  of  the  narrow  intricacies  of 
Rome,  stepping  here  and  there  into  a  church.  I  do 
not  know  the  name  of  the  first  one,  nor  had  it  any 
thing  that  in  Rome  could  be  called  remarkable,  though, 
till  I  came  here,  I  was  not  aware  that  any  such 
churches  existed,  —  a  marble  pavement  in  variegated 
compartments,  a  series  of  shrines  and  chapels  round 
the  whole  floor,  each  with  its  own  adornment  of  sculp 
ture  and  pictures,  its  own  altar  with  tall  wax  tapers 
before  it,  some  of  which  were  burning ;  a  great  picture 
over  the  high  altar,  the  whole  interior  of  the  church 
ranged  round  with  pillars  and  pilasters,  and"  lined, 
every  inch  of  it,  with  rich  yellow  marble.  Finally,  a 
frescoed  ceiling  over  the  nave  and  transepts,  and  a 
dome  rising  high  above  the  central  part,  and  filled 
with  frescos  brought  to  such  perspective  illusion,  that 
the  edges  seem  to  project  into  the  air.  Two  or  three 
persons  are  kneeling  at  separate  shrines  ;  there  are 
several  wooden  confessionals  placed  against  the  walls, 
at  one  of  which  kneels  a  lady,  confessing  to  a  priest 
who  sits  within ;  the  tapers  are  lighted  at  the  high 

VOL  i.  9  ii 


194  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE -BOOKS.       [1858. 

altar  and  at  one  of  the  shrines  ;  an  attendant  is  scrub 
bing  the  marble  pavement  with  a  broom  and  water,  — 
a  process,  I  should  think,  seldom  practised  in  Roman 
churches.  By  and  by  the  lady  finishes  her  confession, 
kisses  the  priest's  hand,  and  sits  down  in  one  of  the 
chairs  which  are  placed  about  the  floor,  while  the 
priest,  in  a  black  robe,  with  a  short,  white,  loose  jacket 
over  bis  shoulders,  disappears  by  a  side  door  out  of 
the  church.  I,  likewise,  finding  nothing  attractive  in 
the  pictures,  take  my  departure.  Protestantism  needs  a 

new  apostle  to  convert  it  into  something  positive 

I  now  found  my  way  to  the  Piazza  JSTavona.  It  is 
to  me  the  most  interesting  piazza  in  Rome  ;  a  large 
oblong  space,  surrounded  with  tall,  shabby  houses, 
among  which  there  are  none  that  seem  to  be  palaces. 
The  sun  falls  broadly  over  the  area  of  the  piazza,  and 
shows  the  fountains  in  it ;  —  one,  a  large  basin  with 
great  sea-monsters,  probably  of  Bernini's  inventions, 
squirting  very  small  streams  of  water  into  it ;  another 
of  the  fountains  I  do  not  at  all  remember;  but  the 
central  one  is  an  immense  basin,  over  which  is  reared 
an  old  Egyptian  obelisk,  elevated  on  a  rock,  which  is 
cleft  into  four  arches.  Monstrous  devices  in  marble, 
I  know  not  of  what  purport,  are  clambering  about 
the  cloven  rock  or  burrowing  beneath  it ;  one  and  all 
of  them  are  superfluous  and  impertinent,  the  only 
essential  thing  being  the  abundant  supply  of  water  in 
the  fountain.  This  whole  Piazza  Navona  is  usually 
the  scene  of  more  business  than  seems  to  be  trans 
acted  anywhere  else  in  Rome ;  in  some  parts  of  it 
rusty  iron  is  offered  for  sale,  locks  and  keys,  old 


1658.]  ITALY.  195 

tools,  and  all  such  rubbish  ;  in  other  parts  vegetables, 
comprising,  at  this  season,  green  peas,  onions,  cauli 
flowers,  radishes,  artichokes,  and  others  with  which  I 
have  never  made  acquaintance ;  also,  stalls  or  wheel 
barrows  containing  apples,  chestnuts  (the  meats  dried 
and  taken  out  of  the  shells),  green  almonds  in  their 
husks,  'and  squash  seeds,  —  salted  and  dried  in  an 
oven,  —  apparently  a  favorite  delicacy  of  the  Romans. 
There  are  also  lemons  and  oranges ;  stalls  of  fish, 
mostly  about  the  size  of  smelts,  taken  from  the  Tiber ; 
cigars  of  various  qualities,  the  best  at  a  baioccho  and 
a  half  apiece ;  bread  in  loaves  or  in  small  rings,  a 
great  many  of  which  are  strung  together  on  a  long 
stick,  and  thus  carried  round  for  sale.  Women  and 
men  sit  with  these  things  for  sale,  or  carry  them 
about  in  trays  or  on  boards  on  their  heads,  crying 
them  with  shrill  and  hard  voices.  There  is  a  shabby 
crowd  and  much  babble;  very  little  picturesqueness  of 
costume  or  figure,  however,  the  chief  exceptions  being, 
here  and  there,  an  old  white-bearded  beggar.  A  few 
of  the  men  have  the  peasant  costume,  —  a  short  jacket 
and  breeches  of  light  blue  cloth  and  white  stockings, 
—  the  ugliest  dress  I  ever  saw.  The  women  go  bare 
headed,  and  seem  fond  of  scarlet  and  other  bright 
colors,  but  are  homely  and  clumsy  in  form.  The 
piazza  is  dingy  in  its  general  aspect,  and  very  dirty, 
being  strewn  with  straw,  vegetable-tops,  and  the  rub 
bish  of  a  week's  marketing ;  but  there  is  more  -life  in 
it  than  one  sees  elsewhere  in  Rome. 

On    one   side  of  the  piazza   is  the  Church  of  St. 
Agnes,  traditionally  said  to  stand  on  the  site  of  the 


196  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

house  where  that  holy  maiden  was  exposed  to  infamy 
by  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  where  her  modesty  and 
innocence  were  saved  by  miracle.  I  went  into  the 
church,  and  found  it  very  splendid,  with  rich  marble 
columns,  all  as  brilliant  as  if  just  built ;  a  frescoed 
dome  above ;  beneath,  a  range  of  chapels  all  round 
the  church,  ornamented  not  with  pictures  but  bas- 
reliefs,  the  figures  of  which  almost  step  and  struggle 
out  of  the  marble.  They  did  not  seem  very  admirable 
as  works  of  art,  none  of  them  explaining  themselves 
or  attracting  me  long  enough  to  study  out  their 
meaning ;  but,  as  part  of  the  architecture  of  the 
church,  they  had  a  good  effect.  Out  of  the  busy 
square  two  or  three  persons  had  stepped  into  this 
bright  and  calm  seclusion  to  pray  and  be  devout  for 
a  little  while ;  and,  between  sunrise  and  sunset  of 
the  bustling  market-day,  many  doubtless  snatch  a 
moment  to  refresh  their  souls. 

In  the  Pantheon  (to-day)  it  was  pleasant  looking 
up  to  the  circular  opening,  to  see  the  clouds  flitting 
across  it,  sometimes  covering  it  quite  over,  then  per 
mitting  a  glimpse  of  sky,  then  showing  all  the  circle 
of  sunny  blue.  Then  would  come  the  ragged  edge  of 
a  cloud,  brightened  throughout  with  sunshine,  pass 
ing  and  changing  quickly,  —  not  that  the  divine  smile 
was  not  always  the  same,  but  continually  variable 
through  the  medium  of  earthly  influences.  The  great 
slanting  beam  of  sunshine  was  visible  all  the  way 
down  to  the  pavement,  falling  upon  motes  of  dust,  or 
a  thin  smoke  of  incense  imperceptible  in  the  shadow. 
Insects  were  playing  to  and  fro  in  the  •  beam,  high  up 


1658.]  ITALY.  19? 

toward  the  opening.  There  is  a  wonderful  charm  in 
the  naturalness  of  all  this,  and  one  might  fancy  a 
swarm  of  cherubs  coming  down  through  the  opening 
and  sporting  in  the  broad  ray,  to  gladden  the  faith  of 
worshippers  on  the  pavement  beneath ;  or  angels 
bearing  prayers  upward,  or  bringing  down  responses 
to  them,  visible  with  dim  brightness  as  they  pass 
through  the  pathway  of  heaven's  radiance,  even  the 
many  hues  of  their  wings  discernible  by  a  trusting 
eye ;  though,  as  they  pass  into  the  shadow,  they  van* 
ish  like  the  motes.  So  the  sunbeam  would  represent 
those  rays  of  divine  intelligence  which  enable  us  to 
see  wonders  and  to  know  that  they  are  natural  things. 

Consider  the  effect  of  light  and  shade  in  a  church 
where  the  windows  are  open  and  darkened  with  cur 
tains  that  are  occasionally  lifted  by  a  breeze,  letting  in 
the  sunshine,  which  whitens  a  carved  tombstone  on 
the  pavement  of  the  church,  disclosing,  perhaps,  the 
letters  of  the  name  and  inscription,  a  death's  head,  a 
crosier,  or  other  emblem  ;  then  the  curtain  falls  and 
the  bright  spot  vanishes. 

May  St/i.  —  This  morning  my  wife  and  I  went  to 
breakfast  with  Mrs.  William  Story  at  the  Barberini 
Palace,  expecting  to  meet  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  has  been 
in  Rome  for  a  month  or  two.  We  had  a  very  pleasant 
breakfast,  but  Mrs.  Jameson  was  not  present  on 
Account  of  indisposition,  and  the  only  other  guests 
were  Mrs.  A and  Mrs.  H ,  two  sensible  Amer 
ican  ladies.  Mrs.  Story,  however,  received  a  note 
from  Mrs.  Jameson,  asking  her  to  bring  us  to  see  he? 
at  her  lodgings  ;  so  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  she 


198  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

called  for  us,  and  took  us  thither  in  her  carnage- 
Mrs.  Jameson  lives  on  the  first  piano  of  an  old  piazzo 
on  the  Via  di  Ripetta,  nearly  opposite  the  ferry- way 
across  the  Tiber,  and  affording  a  pleasant  view  of  the 
yellow  river  and  the  green  bank  and  fields  on  the 
other  side.  I  had  expected  to  see  an  elderly  lady, 
but  not  quite  so  venerable  a  one  as  Mrs.  Jameson 
proved  to  be ;  a  rather  short,  round,  and  massive 
personage,  of  benign  and  agreeable  aspect,  with  a  sort 
of  black  skullcap  on  her  head,  beneath  which  appeared 
her  hair,  which  seemed  once  to  have  been  fair,  and 
was  now  almost  white.  I  should  take  her  to  be  about 
seventy  years  old.  She  began  to  talk  to  us  with 
affectionate  familiarity,  and  was  particularly  kind  in 
her  manifestations  towards  myself,  who,  on  my  part, 
was  equally  gracious  towards  her.  In  truth,  I  have 
found  great  pleasure  and  profit  in  her  works,  and  was 
glad  to  hear  her  say  that  she  liked  mine.  We  talked 
about  art,  and  she  showed  us  a  picture  leaning  up 
against  the  wall  of  the  room  ;  a  quaint  old  Byzantine 
painting,  with  a  gilded  background,  and  two  stiff 
figures  (our  Saviour  and  St.  Catherine)  standing  shyly 
at  a  sacred  distance  from  one  another,  and  going 
through  the  marriage  ceremony.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  expression  in  their  faces  and  figures ;  and  the 
spectator  feels,  moreover,  that  the  artist  must  have 
been  a  devout  man,  —  an  impression  which  we  seldom 
receive  from  modern  pictures,  however  awfully  holy 
the  subject,  or  however  consecrated  the  place  they 
hang  in.  Mrs.  Jameson  seems  to  be  familiar  with 
Italy,  its  people  and  life,  as  well  as  with  its  picture- 


1858.]  ITALY.  199 

galleries.  She  is  said  to  be  rather  irascible  in  her 
temper  ;  but  nothing  could  be  sweeter  than  her  voice, 
her  look,  and  all  her  manifestations  to-day.  When 
we  were  coming  away  she  clasped  my  hand  in  both 
of  hers,  and  again  expressed  the  pleasure  of  having 
seen  me,  and  her  gratitude  to  me  for  calling  on  her ; 
nor  did  I  refrain  from  responding  Ameii  to  these 
effusions 

Taking  leave  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  we  drove  through 
the  city,  and  out  of  the  Lateran  Gate  ;  first,  however, 
waiting  a  long  while  at  Monaldini's  bookstore  in  the 
Piazza  di  Spagua  for  Mr.  Story,  whom  we  finally  took 
up  in  the  street,  after  losing  nearly  an  hour. 

Just  two  miles  beyond  the  gate  is  a  space  on  the 
green  campagna  where,  for  some  time  past,  excava 
tions  have  been  in  progress,  which  thus  far  have 
resulted  in  the  discovery  of  several  tombs,  and  the 
old,  buried,  and  almost  forgotten  church  or  basilica 
of  San  Stefano.  It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  that  of  the 
excavations,  with  the  Alban  hills  in  the  distance,  and 
some  heavy,  sunlighted  clouds  hanging  above,  or 
recumbent  at  length  upon  them,  and  behind  the  city 
and  its  mighty  dome.  The  excavations  are  an  object 
of  great  interest  both  to  the  Romans  and  to  strangers, 
and  there  were  many  carriages  and  a  great  many 
visitors  viewing  the  progress  of  the  works,  which  are 
carried  forward  with  greater  energy  than  anything 
else  I  have  seen  attempted  at  Rome.  A  short  time 
ago  the  ground  in  the  vicinity  was  a  green  surface, 
level,  except  here  and  there  a  little  hillock,  or  scarcely 
perceptible  swell ;  the  tomb  of  Cecelia  Metella  showing 


200  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185& 

itself  a  mile  or  two  distant,  and  other  rugged  ruins  of 
great  tombs  rising  on  the  plain.  Now  the  whole  site 
of  the  basilica  is  uncovered,  and  they  have  dug  into 
the  depths  of  several  tombs,  bringing  to  light  precious 
marbles,  pillars,  a  statue,  and  elaborately  wrought 
sarcophagi ;  and  if  they  were  to  dig  into  almost  every 
other  inequality  that  frets  the  surface  of  the  cam> 
pagna,  I  suppose  the  result  might  be  the  same.  You 
cannot  dig  six  feet  downward  anywhere  into  the  soil, 
deep  enough  to  hollow  out  a  grave,  without  finding 
some  precious  relic  of  the  past ;  only  they  lose  some 
what  of  their  value  when  you  think  that  you  can 
almost  spurn  them  out  of  the  ground  with  your  foot. 
It  is  a  very  wonderful  arrangement  of  Providence  that 
these  things  should  have  been  preserved  for  a  long 
series  of  coming  generations  by  that  accumulation  of 
dust  and  soil  and  grass  and  trees  and  houses  over 
them,  which  will  keep  them  safe,  and  cause  their 
reappearance  above  ground  to  be  gradual,  so  that  the 
rest  of  the  world's  lifetime  may  have  for  one  of  its 
enjoyments  the  uncovering  of  old  Rome. 

The  tombs  were  accessible  by  long  nights  of  steps, 
going  steeply  downward,  and  they  were  thronged 
with  so  many  visitors  that  we  had  to  wait  some  little 
time  for  our  own  turn.  In  the  first  into  which  we 
descended  we  found  two  tombs  side  by  side,  with  only 
a  partition  wall  between ;  the  outer  tomb  being,  as 
is  supposed,  a  burial-place  constructed  by  the  early 
Christians,  while  the  adjoined  and  minor  one  was  a 
work  of  pagan  Rome  about  the  second  century  after 
Christ.  The  former  was  much  less  interesting  than 


1858.]  ITALY.  201 

the  latter.  It  contained  some  large  sarcophagi,  with 
sculpture  upon  them  of  rather  heathenish  aspect ;  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  front  of  each  sarcophagus  was  a 
bust  in  bas-relief,  the  features  of  which  had  never 
been  wrought,  but  were  left  almost  blank,  with  only 
the  faintest  indications  of  a  nose,  for  instance.  It  is 
supposed  that  sarcophagi  were  kept  on  hand  by  the 
sculptors,  and  were  bought  ready  made,  and  that  it 
was  customary  to  work  out  the  portrait  of  the  de 
ceased  upon  the  blank  face  in  the  centre  ;  but  when, 
there  was  a  necessity  for  sudden  burial,  as  may  have 
been  the  case  in  the  present  instance,  this  was  dis 
pensed  with. 

The  inner  tomb  was  found  without  any  earth  in  it, 
just  as  it  had  been  left  when  the  last  old  Roman  was 
buried  there ;  and  it  being  only  a  week  or  two  since 
it  was  opened,  there  was  very  little  intervention  of 
persons,  though  much  of  time,  between  the  departure 
of  the  friends  of  the  dead  and  our  own  visit.  It  is 
a  square  room,  with  a  mosaic  pavement,  and  is  six  or 
seven  paces  in  length  and  breadth,  and  as  much  in 
height  to  the  vaulted  roof.  The  roof  and  upper  walls 
are  beautifully  ornamented  with  frescos,  which  were 
very  bright  when  first  discovered,  but  have  rapidly 
faded  since  the  admission  of  the  air,  though  the 
graceful  and  joyous  designs,  flowers  and  fruits  and 
trees,  are  still  perfectly  discernible.  The  room  must 
have  been  anything  but  sad  and  funereal ;  on  the 
contrary,  as  cheerful  a  saloon,  and  as  brilliant,  if 
lighted  up,  as  one  could  desire  to  feast  in.  It  con 
tained  several  marble  sarcophagi,  covering  indeed 
9* 


202  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

almost  the  whole  floor,  and  each  of  them  as  much  as 
three  or  four  feet  in  length,  and  two  much  longer. 
The  longer  ones  I  did  not  particularly  examine,  and 
they  seemed  comparatively  plainer ;  but  the  smaller 
sarcophagi  were  covered  with  the  most  delicately 
wrought  and  beautiful  bas-reliefs  that  I  ever  beheld  ; 
a  throng  of  glad  and  lovely  shapes  in  marble  cluster 
ing  thickly  and  chasing  one  another  round  the  sides 
of  these  old  stone  coffins.  The  work  was  as  perfect 
as  when  the  sculptor  gave  it  his  last  touch  ;  and  if  he 
had  wrought  it  to  be  placed  in  a  frequented  hall,  to 
be  seen  and  admired  by  continual  crowds  as  long  as 
the  marble  should  endure,  he  could  not  have  chiselled 
with  better  skill  and  care,  though  his  work  was  to  be 
shut  up  in  the  depths  of  a  tomb  forever.  This  seems 
to  me  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world,  the  most  alien 
from  modern  sympathies.  If  they  had  built  their 
tombs  above  ground,  one  could  understand  the  ar 
rangement  better ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  adorned 
them  so  richly,  and  furnished  them  with  such  ex 
quisite  productions  of  art,  than  they  annihilated  them 
with  darkness.  It  was  an  attempt,  no  doubt,  to 
render  the  physical  aspect  of  death  cheerful,  but 
there  was  no  good  sense  in  it. 

We  went  down  also  into  another  tomb  close  by, 
the  walls  of  which  were  ornamented  with  medallions 
in  stucco.  These  works  presented  a  numerous  series 
of  graceful  designs,  wrought  by  the  hand  in  the  short 
space  (Mr.  Story  said  it  could  not  have  been  more 
than  five  or  ten  minutes)  while  the  wet  plaster  re 
mained  capable  of  being  moulded  ;  and  it  was  mar- 


}858.]  ITALY.  203 

vellous  to  think  of  the  fertility  of  the  artist's  fancy, 
and  the  rapidity  and  accuracy  with  which  he  must 
have  given  substantial  existence  to  his  ideas.  These 
too  —  all  of  them  such  adornments  as  would  have 
suited  a  festal  hall  —  were  made  to  be  buried  forth 
with  in  eternal  darkness.  I  saw  and  handled  in  this 
tomb  a  great  thigh-bone,  and  measured  it  with  my 
own;  it  was  one  of  many  such  relics  of  the  guests 
who  were  laid  to  sleep  in  these  rich  chambers.  The 
sarcophagi  that  served  them  for  coffins  could  not  now 
be  put  to  a  more  appropriate  use  than  as  wine-coolers 
in  a  modern  dining-room  ;  and  it  would  heighten  the 
enjoyment  of  a  festival  to  look  at  them. 

We  would  gladly  have  stayed  much  longer ;  but  it 
was  drawing  towards  sunset,  and  the  evening,  though 
bright,  was  unusually  cool,  so  we  drove  home ;  and 
on  the  way,  Mr.  Story  told  us  of  the  horrible  prac 
tices  of  the  modern  Romans  with  their  dead,  —  how 
they  place  them  in  the  church,  where,  at  midnight, 
they  are  stripped  of  their  last  rag  of  funeral  attire, 
put  into  the  rudest  wooden  coffins,  and  thrown  into  a 
trench, — a  half-mile,  for  instance,  of  promiscuous 
corpses.  This  is  the  fate  of  all,  except  those  whose 
friends  choose  to  pay  an  exorbitant  sum  to  have  them 
•buried  under  the  pavement  of  a  church.  The  Italians 
have  an  excessive  dread  of  corpses,  and  never  meddle 
with  those  of  their  nearest  and  dearest  relatives. 
They  have  a  horror  of  death,  too,  especially  of  sudden 
death,  and  most  particularly  of  apoplexy ;  and  no 
wonder,  as  it  gives  no  time  for  the  last  rites  of  the 
Church,  and  so  exposes  them  to  a  fearful  risk  of  per- 


204          FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

dition  forever.  On  the  whole,  the  ancient  practice 
was,  perhaps,  the  preferable  one ;  but  Nature  has 
made  it  very  difficult  for  us  to  do  anything  pleasant 
and  satisfactory  with  a  dead  body.  God  knows  best ; 
but  I  wish  he  had  so  ordered  it  that  our  mortal 
bodies,  when  we  have  done  with  them,  might  vanish 
out  of  sight  and  sense,  like  bubbles.  A  person  of 
delicacy  hates  to  think  of  leaving  such  a  burden  as 
his  decaying  mortality  to  the  disposal  of  his  friends  ; 
but,  I  say  again,  how  delightful  it  would  be,  and  how- 
helpful  towards  our  faith  in  a  blessed  futurity,  if  the 
dying  could  disappear  like  vanishing  bubbles,  leaving, 
perhaps,  a  sweet  fragrance  diffused  for  a  minute  or 
two  throughout  the  death-chamber.  This  would  be 
the  odor  of  sanctity  !  And  if  sometimes  the  evap 
oration  of  a  sinful  soul  should  leave  an  odor  not  so 
delightful,  a  breeze  through  the  open  windows  would 
soon  waft  it  quite  away. 

Apropos  of  the  various  methods  of  disposing  of 
dead  bodies,  William  Story  recalled  a  newspaper 
paragraph  respecting  a  ring,  with  a  stone  of  a  new 
species  in  it,  which  a  widower  was  observed  to  wear 
upon  his  finger.  Being  questioned  as  to  what  the 
gem  was,  he  answered,  "  It  is  my  wife."  He  had 
procured  her  body  to  be  chemically  resolved  into  this 
stone.  I  think  I  could  make  a  story  on  this  idea  : 
the  ring  should  be  one  of  the  widower's  bridal  gifts 
to  a  second  wife ;  and,  of  course,  it  should  have 
wondrous  and  terrible  qualities,  symbolizing  all  that 
disturbs  the  quiet  of  a  second  marriage,  — on  the 
husband's  part,  remorse  for  his  inconstancy,  and  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  205 

constant  comparison  between  the  dead  wife  of  his 
youth,  now  idealized,  and  the  grosser  reality  which 
he  had  now  adopted  into  her  place ;  while  on  the 
new  wife's  finger  it  should  give  pressures,  shooting 
pangs  into  her  heart,  jealousies  of  the  past,  and  all 
such  miserable  emotions. 

By  the  by,  the  tombs  which  we  looked  at  and 
entered  may  have  been  originally  above  ground, 
like  that  of  Cecilia  Metella,  and  a  hundred  others 
along  the  Appiau  Way  ;  though,  even  in  this  case, 
the  beautiful  chambers  must  have  been  shut  up  in 
darkness.  Had  there  been  windows,  letting  in  the 
light  upon  the  rich  frescos  and  exquisite  sculptures, 
there  would  have  been  a  satisfaction  in  thinking  of 
the  existence  of  so  much  visual  beauty,  though  no 
eye  had  the  privilege  to  see  it.  But  darkness,  to 
objects  of  sight,  is  annihilation,  as  long  as  the  dark 
ness  lasts. 

May  §th.  —  Mrs.  Jameson  called  this  forenoon  to 
ask  us  to  go  and  see  her  this  evening ;  ....  so  that 
I  had  to  receive  her  alone,  devolving  part  of  the 
burden  on  Miss  Shepard  and  the  three  children,  all 
of  whom  I  introduced  to  her  notice.  Finding  that  I 
had  not  been  farther  beyond  the  walls  of  Rome  than 
the  tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella,  she  invited  me  to  take  a 

drive  of  a  few  miles  with  her  this  afternoon 

The  poor  lady  seems  to  be  very  lame ;  and  I  am  sure 
I  was  grateful  to  her  for  having  taken  the  trouble  to 
climb  up  the  seventy  steps  of  our  staircase,  and  felt 
pain  at  seeing  her  go  down  them  again.  It  looks  fear 
fully  like  the  gout,  the  affection  being  apparently  in 


206  FRENCH   AND   ITALIAN   NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

one  foot.  The  hands,  by  the  way,  are  white,  and  must 
once  have  been,  perhaps  now  are,  beautiful.  She 
must  have  been  a  perfectly  pretty  woman  in  her  day, 
—  a  blue  or  gray  eyed,  fair-haired  beauty.  I  think 
that  her  hair  is  not  white,  but  only  flaxen  in  the 
extreme. 

At  half  past  four,  according  to  appointment,  I 
arrived  at  her  lodgings,  and  had  not  long  to  wait 
before  her  little  one-horse  carriage  drove  up  to  the 
door,  and  we  set  out,  rumbling  along  the  Via  Scrofa, 
and  through  the  densest  part  of  the  city,  past  the 
theatre  of  Marcellus,  and  thence  along  beneath  the 
Palatine  Hill,  and  by  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  through 
the  gate  of  San  Sebastiano.  After  emerging  from 
the  gate,  we  soon  came  to  the  little  Church  of 
"  Domine,  quo  vadis1?"  Standing  on  the  spot  where 
St.  Peter  is  said  to  have  seen  a  vision  of  our  Saviour 
bearing  his  cross,  Mrs.  Jameson  proposed  to  alight  ; 
and,  going  in,  we  saw  a  cast  from  Michael  Angelo's 
statue  of  the  Saviour ;  and  not  far  from  the  threshold 
of  the  church,  yet  perhaps  in  the  centre  of  the 
edifice,  which  is  extremely  small,  a  circular  stone  is 
placed,  a  little  raised  above  the  pavement,  and  sur 
rounded  by  a  low  wooden  railing.  Pointing  to  this 
stone,  Mrs.  Jameson  showed  me  the  prints  of  two 
feet  side  by  side,  impressed  into  its  surface,  as  if  a 
person  had  stopped  short  while  pursuing  his  way  to 
Koine.  These,  she  informed  me,  were  supposed  to 
be  the  miraculous  prints  of  the  Saviour's  feet ;  but  on 
looking  into  Murray,  I  am  mortified  to  find  that  they 
are  merely  facsimiles  of  the  original  impressions, 


1858.]  ITALY.  207 

which  are  treasured  up  among  the  relics  of  the 
neighboring  Basilica  of  San  Sebastiano.  The  marks 
of  sculpture  seemed  to  me,  indeed,  very  evident  in 
these  prints,  nor  did  they  indicate  such  beautiful  feet 
as  should  have  belonged  to  the  bearer  of  the  best  of 
glad  tidings. 

Hence  we  drove  on  a  little  way  farther,  and  came  to 
the  Basilica  of  San  Sebastiano,  where  also  we  alighted, 
and,  leaning  on  my  arm,  Mrs.  Jameson  went  in.  It  is 
a  stately  and  noble  interior,  with  a  spacious  unen 
cumbered  nave,  and  a  flat  ceiling  frescoed  and  gilded. 
In  a  chapel  at  the  left  of  the  entrance  is  the  tomb  of 
St.  Sebastian,  —  a  sarcophagus  containing  his  remains, 
raised  on  high  before  the  altar,  and  beneath  it  a  re 
cumbent  statue  of  the  saint  pierced  with  gilded  ar 
rows.  The  sculpture  is  of  the  school  of  Bernini,  — 
done  after  the  design  of  Bernini  himself,  Mrs.  Jame 
son  said,  and  is  more  agreeable  and  in  better  taste 
than  most  of  his  works.  We  walked  round  the  basil 
ica,  glancing  at  the  pictures  in  the  various  chapels, 
none  of  which  seemed  to  be  of  remarkable  merit, 
although  Mrs.  Jameson  pronounced  rather  a  favor 
able  verdict  on  one  of  St.  Francis.  She  says  that 
she  can  read  a  picture  like  the  page  of  a  book ;  in 
fact,  without  perhaps  assuming  more  taste  and  judg 
ment  than  really  belong  to  her,  it  was  impossible  not 
to  perceive  that  she  gave  her  companion  no  credit 
for  knowing  one  single  simplest  thing  about  art.  Nor, 
on  the  whole,  do  I  think  she  underrated  me  ;  the  only 
mystery  is,  how  she  came  to  be  so  well  aware  of  my 
ignorance  on  artistical  points. 


208  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

In  the  basilica  the  Franciscan  monks  were  ar 
ranging  benches  on  the  floor  of  the  nave,  and  some 
peasant  children  and  grown  people  besides  were  as- 
sembling,  probably  to  undergo  an  examination  in  the 
catechism,  and  we  hastened  to  depart,  lest  our  pres 
ence  should  interfere  with  their  arrangements.  At 
the  door  a  monk  met  us,  and  asked  for  a  contribution 
in  aid  of  his  church,  or  some  other  religious  purpose. 
Boys,  as  we  drove  on,  ran  stoutly  along  by  the  side  of 
the  chaise,  begging  as  often  as  they  could  find  breath, 
but  were  constrained  finally  to  give  up  the  pursuit. 
The  great  ragged  bulks  of  the  tombs  along  the  Appian 
Way  now  hove  in  sight,  one  with  a  farm-house  on  its 
summit,  and  all  of  them  preposterously  huge  and 
massive.  At  a  distance,  across  the  green  campagna 
on  our  left,  the  Claud ian  aqueduct  strode  away  over 
miles  of  space,  and  doubtless  reached  even  to  that 
circumference  of  blue  hills  which  stand  afar  off,  gird 
ling  Rome  about.  The  tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella  camo 
in  sight  a  long  while  before  we  reached  it,  with  the 
warm  buff  hue  of  its  travertine,  and  the  gray  battle- 
mented  wall  which  the  Gaetenis  erected  on  the  top  of 
its  circular  summit  six  hundred  years  ago.  After 
passing  it,  we  saw  an  interminable  line  of  tombs  on 
both  sides  of  the  way,  each  of  which  might,  for  aught 
I  know,  have  been  as  massive  as  that  of  Cecilia  Me 
tella,  and  some  perhaps  still  more  monstrously  gigan 
tic,  though  now  dilapidated  and  much  reduced  in  size. 
Mrs.  Jameson  had  an  engagement  to  dinner  at  half 
past  six,  so  that  we  could  go  but  a  little  farther  along 
this  most  interesting  road,  the  borders  of  which  are 


1858.]  ITALY.  209 

strewn  with  broken  marbles,  fragments  of  capitals, 
and  nameless  rubbish  that  once  was  beautiful.  Me- 
thinks  the  Appian  Way  should  be  the  only  entrance 
to  Rome,  —  through  an  avenue  of  tombs. 

The  day  had  been  cloudy,  chill,  and  windy,  but 
was  now  grown  calmer  and  more  genial,  and  bright 
ened  by  a  very  pleasant  sunshine,  though  great  dark 
clouds  were  still  lumbering  up  the  sky.  We  drove 
homeward,  looking  at  the  distant  dome  of  St.  Peter's, 
and  talking  of  many  things,  —  painting,  sculpture, 
America,  England,  spiritualism,  and  whatever  else 
came  up.  She  is  a  very  sensible  old  lady,  and  sees  a 
great  deal  of  truth;  a  good  woman,  too,  taking  ele 
vated  views  of  matters  ;  but  I  doubt  whether  she  has 
the  highest  and  finest  perceptions  in  the  world.  At 
any  rate,  she  pronounced  a  good  judgment  on  the 
American  sculptors  now  in  Rome,  condemning  them 
in  the  mass  as  men  with  no  high  aims,  no  worthy 
conception  of  the  -purposes  of  their  art,  and  desecrat 
ing  marble  by  the  things  they  wrought  in  it.  William 
Story,  I  presume,  is  not  to  be  included  in  this  censure, 
as  she  had  spoken  highly  of  his  sculpturesque  faculty 
in  our  previous  conversation.  On  my  part,  I  sug 
gested  that  the  English  sculptors  were  little  or  noth 
ing  better  than  our  own,  to  which  she  acceded  gener 
ally,  but  said  that  Gibson  had  produced  works  equal 
to  the  antique,  • —  which  I  did  not  dispute,  but  still 
questioned  whether  the  world  needed  Gibson,  or  was 
any  the  better  for  him.  We  had  a  great  dispute 
about  the  propriety  of  adopting  the  costume  of  the 
day  in  modern  sculpture,  and  I  contended  that  either 


210  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  art  ought  to  be  given  up  (which  possibly  would 
be  the  best  course),  or  else  should  be  used  for  ideal 
izing  the  man  of  the  day  to  himself;  and  that,  as  Na 
ture  makes  us  sensible  of  the  fact  when  men  and 
women  are  graceful,  beautiful,  and  noble,  through 
whatever  costume  they  wear,  so  it  ought  to  be  the 
test  of  the  sculptor's  genius  that  he  should  do  the 
same.  Mrs.  Jameson  decidedly  objected  to  buttons, 
breeches,  and  all  other  items  of  modern  costume ; 
and,  indeed,  they  do  degrade  the  marble,  and  make 
high  sculpture  utterly  impossible.  Then  let  the  art 
perish  as  one  that  the  world  has  done  with,  as  it  has 
done  with  many  other  beautiful  things  that  belonged 
to  an  earlier  time. 

It  was  long  past  the  hour  of  Mrs.  Jameson's  dinner 
engagement  when  we  drove  up  to  her  door  in  the  Via 
liipetta.  I  bade  her  farewell  with  much  good-feeling 
on  my  own  side,  and,  I  hope,  on  hers,  excusing  myself, 
however,  from  keeping  the  previous  engagement  to 
spend  the  evening  with  her,  for,  in  point  of  fact,  we 
had  mutually  had  enough  of  one  another  for  the  time 
being.  I  am  glad  to  record  that  she  expressed  a  very 
favorable  opinion  of  our  friend  Mr.  Thompson's  pic 
tures. 

May  12th.  —  To-day  we  have  been  to  the  Villa 
Albani,  to  which  we  had  a  ticket  of  admission  through 
the  agency  of  Mr.  Cass  (the  American  Minister).  We 
set  out  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock,  and  walked 
through  the  Via  Felice,  the  Piazza  Barberini,  and  a 
long,  heavy,  dusty  range  of  streets  beyond,  to  the 
Porta  Salara,  whence  the  road  extends,  white  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  211 

sunny,  between  two  high  blank  walls  to  the  gate  of 
the  villa,  which  is  at  no  great  distance.  We  were 
admitted  by  a  girl,  and  went  first  to  the  casino,  along 
an  aisle  of  overshadowing  trees,  the  branches  of  which 
met  above  our  heads.  In  the  portico  of  the  casino, 
which  extends  along  its  whole  front,  there  are  many 
busts  and  statues,  and,  among  them,  one  of  Julius 
Csesar,  representing  him  at  an  earlier  period  of  life 
than  others  which  I  have  seen.  His  aspect  is  not 
particularly  impressive ;  there  is  a  lack  of  chin, 
though  not  so  much  as  in  the  older  statues  and  busts. 
Within  the  edifice  there  is  a  large  hall,  not  so  brilliant, 
perhaps,  with  frescos  and  gilding  as  those  at  the  Villa 
Borghese,  but  lined  with  the  most  beautiful  variety  of 
marbles.  But,  in  fact,  each  new  splendor  of  this  sort 
outshines  the  last,  and  unless  we  could  pass  from  one 
to  another  all  in  the  same  suite,  we  cannot  remember 
them  well  enough  to  compare  the  Borghese  with  the 
Albani,  the  effect  being  more  on  the  fancy  than  on  the 
intellect.  I  do  not  recall  any  of  the  sculpture,  except 
a  colossal  bas-relief  of  Antinous,  crowned  with  flowers, 
and  holding  flowers  in  his  hand,  which  was  found  in 
the  rains  of  Hadrian's  Villa.  This  is  said  to  be  the 
finest  relic  of  antiquity  next  to  the  Apollo  and  the 
Laocoon;  but  I  could  not  feel  it  to  be  so,  partly,  I 
suppose,  because  the  features  of  Antinous  do  not  seem 
to  me  beautiful  in  themselves ;  and  that  heavy,  down 
ward  look  is  repeated  till  I  am  more  weary  of  it  than 
of  anything  else  in  sculpture.  We  went  up  stairs  and 
down  stairs,  and  saw  a  good  many  beautiful  things, 
but  none,  perhaps,  of  the  very  best  and  beautifullest ; 


212  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185& 

and  second-rate  statues,  with  the  corroded  surface  of 
old  marble  that  has  been  dozens  of  centuries  under 
the  ground,  depress  the  spirits  of  the  beholder.  The 
bas-relief  of  Aiitinoiis  has  at  least  the  merit  of  being 
almost  as  white  and  fresh,  and  quite  as  smooth,  as  if 
it  had  never  been  buried  and  dug  up  again.  The  real 
treasures  of  this  villa,  to  the  number  of  nearly  three 
hundred,  were  removed  to  Paris  by  Napoleon,  and, 
except  the  Antinoiis,  not  one  of  them  ever  came  back. 

There  are  some  pictures  in  one  or  two  of  the  rooms, 
and  among  them  I  recollect  one  by  Perugino,  in  which 
is  a  St.  Michael,  very  devout  and  very  beautiful ; 
indeed,  the  whole  picture  (which  is  in  compartments, 
representing  the  three  principal  points  of  the  Saviour's 
history)  impresses  the  beholder  as  being  painted 
devoutly  and  earnestly  by  a  religious  man.  In  one  of 
the  rooms  there  is  a  small  bronze  Apollo,  supposed  by 
Winckelmann  to  be  an  original  of  Praxiteles;  but  I 
could  not  make  myself  in  the  least  sensible  of  its 
merit. 

The  rest  of  the  things  in  the  casino  I  shall  pass 
over,  as  also  those  in  the  coffee-house,  —  an  edifice  which 
stands  a  hundred  yards  or  more  from  the  casino,  with 
an  ornamental  garden,  laid  out  in  walks  and  flower- 
plats  between.  The  coffee-house  has  a  semicircular 
sweep  of  porch  with  a  good  many  statues  and  busts 
beneath  it,  chiefly  of  distinguished  Romans.  -In  this 
building,  as  in  the  casino,  there  are  curious  mosaics, 
large  vases  of  rare  marble,  and  many  other  things 
worth  long  pauses  of  admiration  ;  but  I  think  that  we 
were  all  happier  when  we  had  done  with  the  works  of 


1858.]  'TALY.  213 

art,  and  were  at  leisure  to  ramble  about  the  grounds. 
The  Villa  Abani  itself  is  an  edifice  separate  from  both 
the  •  coffee-house  and  casino,  and  is  not  opened  to 
strangers.  It  rises,  palace-like,  in  the  midst  of  the 
garden,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  has  some  possibility 
of  comfort  amidst  its  splendors.  Comfort,  however, 
would  be  thrown  away  upon  it ;  for  besides  that  the 
site  shares  the  curse  that  has  fallen  upon  every  pleas 
ant  place  in  the  vicinity  of  Rome,  ....  it  really  has 
no  occupant  except  the  servants  who  take  care  of  it. 
The  Count  of  Castelbarco,  its  present  proprietor,  resides 
at  Milan.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  in  the  old  fashion 
of  straight  paths,  with  borders  of  box,  which  form 
hedges  of  great  height  and  density,  and  as  even  as  a. 
brick-wall  at  the  top  and  sides.  There  are  also  alleys 
forming  long  vistas  between  the  trunks  and  beneath 
the  boughs  of  oaks,  ilexes,  and  olives ;  and  there  are 
shrubberies  and  tangled  wildernesses  of  palm,  cactus, 
rhododendron,  and  I  know  not  what ;  and  a  profusion 
of  roses  that  bloom  and  wither  with  nobody  to  pluck 
and  few  to  look  at  them.  They  climb  about  tho 
sculpture  of  fountains,  rear  themselves  against  pillars 
and  porticos,  run  brimming  over  the  walls,  and  strew 
the  paths  with  their  falling  leaves.  We  stole  a  few, 
and  feel  that  we  have  wronged  our  consciences  in  not 
stealing  mora.  In  one  part  of  the  grounds  we  saw  a 
field  actually  ablaze  with  scarlet  poppies.  There  are 
great  lagunas  ;  fountains  presided  over  by  naiads,  who 
squirt  their  little  jets  into  basins ;  sunny  lawns  ;  a 
temple,  so  artificially  ruined  that  we  half  believed  it 
a  veritable  antique  ;  and  at  its  base  a  reservoir  of 


214  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

water,  in  which  stone  swans  seemed  positively  to  float ; 
groves  of  cypress;  balustrades  and  broad  flights  of 
stone  stairs,  descending  to  lower  levels  of  the  garden  ; 
beauty,  peace,  sunshine,  and  antique  repose  on  every 
side  ;  and  far  in  the  distance  the  blue  hills  that  encir 
cle  the  campagna  of  Rome.  The  day  was  very  fine 
for  our  purpose ;  cheerful,  but  not  too  bright,  and 
tempered  by  a  breeze  that  seemed  even  a  little  too  cool 
when  we  sat  long  in  the  shade.  We  enjoyed  it  till 
three  o'clock 

At  the  Capitol  there  is  a  sarcophagus  with  a  most 
beautiful  bas-relief  of  the  discovery  of  Achilles  by 
Ulysses,  in  which  there  is  even  an  expression  of 
mirth  on  the  faces  of  many  of  the  spectators.  And 
to-day  at  the  Albani  a  sarcophagus  was  ornamented 
with  the  nuptials  of  Peleiis  and  Thetis. 

Death  strides  behind  every  man,  to  be  sure,  at 
more  or  less  distance,  and,  sooner  or  later,  enters 
upon  any  event  of  his  life  ;  so  that,  in  this  point  of 
view,  they  might  each  and  all  serve  for  bas-reliefs  on 
a  sarcophagus  ;  but  the  Romans  seem  to  have  treated 
Death  as  lightly  and  playfully  as  they  could,  and  tried 
to  cover  his  4art  with  flowers,  because  they  hated  it 
so  much, 

May  15th.  —  My  wife  and  I  went  yesterday  to  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  it  being  my  first  visit.  It  is  a  room 
of  noble  proportions,  lofty  and  long,  though  divided 
in  the  midst  by  a  screen  or  partition  of  white  marble, 
which  rises  high  enough  to  break  the  Affect  of  spacious 
unity.  There  are  six  arched  windows  on  each  side  of 
the  chapel,  throwing  down  their  light  from  the  height 


1358.]  ITALY.  215 

of  the  walls,  with  as  much  as  twenty  feet  of  space 
(more  I  should  think)  between  them  and  the  floor. 
The  entire  walls  and  ceiling  of  this  stately  chapel  are 
covered  with  paintings  in  fresco,  except  the  space 
about  ten  feet  in  height  from  the  floor,  and  that 
portion  was  intended  to  be  adorned  by  tapestries  from 
pictures  by  Raphael,  but,  the  design  being  prevented 
by  his  immature  death,  the  projected  tapestries  have 
no  better  substitute  than  paper-hangings.  The  roof, 
which  is  flat  at  top,  and  coved  or  vaulted  at  the  sides, 
is  painted  in  compartments  by  Michael  Angelo,  with 
frescos  representing  the  whole  progress  of  the  world 
and  of  mankind  from  its  first  formation  by  the  Al 
mighty  ....  till  after  the  flood.  On  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  chapel  are  pictures  by  Perugino,  and 
other  old  masters,  of  subsequent  events  in  sacred 
history ;  and  the  entire  wall  behind  the  altar,  a  vast 
expanse  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  is  taken  up  with 
Michael  Angelo's  summing  up  of  the  world's  history 
and  destinies  in  his  "  Last  Judgment." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  while  these  frescos 
continued  in  their  perfection,  there  was  nothing  else 
to  be  compared  with  the  magnificent  and  solemn 
beauty  of  this  chapel.  Enough  of  ruined  splendor 
still  remains  to  convince  the  spectator  of  all  that  has 
departed  ;  but  methinks  I  have  seen  hardly  anything 
else  so  forlorn  and  depressing  as  it  is  now,  all  dusky 
and  dim,  even  the  very  lights  having  passed  into 
shadows,  and  the  shadows  into  utter  blackness ;  so 
that  it  needs  a  sunshiny  day,  under  the  bright  Italian 
heavens,  to  make  the  designs  perceptible  at  all.  As 


216  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

we  sat  in  the  chapel  there  were  clouds  flitting  across 
the  sky  ;  when  the  clouds  came  the  pictures  vanished ; 
when  the  sunshine  broke  forth  the  figures  sadly  glim 
mered  into  something  like  visibility,  —  the  Almighty 
moving  in  chaos,  —  the  noble  shape  of  Adam,  the 
beautiful  Eve;  and,  beneath  where  the  roof  curves, 
the  mighty  figures  of  sibyls  and  prophets,  looking  as 
if  they  were  necessarily  so  gigantic  because  the 
thought  within  them  was  so  massive.  In  the  "  Last 
Judgment "  the  scene  of  the  greater  part  of  the  picture 
lies  in  the  upper  sky,  the  blue  of  which  glows  through 
betwixt  the  groups  of  naked  figures ;  and  above  sits 
Jesus,  not  looking  in  the  least  like  the  Saviour  of  the 
world,  but,  with  uplifted  arm,  denouncing  eternal 
misery  on  those  whom  he  came  to  save.  I  fear  I  am 
myself  among  the  wicked,  for  I  found  myself  inevita 
bly  taking  their  part,  and  asking  for  at  least  a  little 
pity,  some  few  regrets,  and  not  such  a  stern  denunci 
atory  spirit  on  the  part  of  Him  who  had  thought  us 
worth  dying  for.  Around  him  stand  grim  saints,  and, 
far  beneath,  people  are  getting  up  sleepily  out  of  their 
graves,  not  well  knowing  what  is  about  to  happen; 
many  of  them,  however,  finding  themselves  clutched 
by  demons  before  they  are  half  awake.  It  would  be 
a  very  terrible  picture  to  one  who  should  really  see 
Jesus,  the  Saviour,  in  that  inexorable  judge  ;  but  it 
seems  to  me  very  undesirable  that  he  should  ever  be 
represented  in  that  aspect,  when  it  is  so  essential  to 
our  religion  to  believe  him  infinitely  kinder  and  better 
towards  us  than  we  deserve.  At  the  last  day — I 
presume,  that  is,  in  all  future  days,  when  we  sec  our- 


3858.]  ITALY.  217 

selves  as  we  are  —  man's  only  inexorable  judge  will 
be  himself,  and  the  punishment  of  his  sins  will  be  the 
perception  of  them. 

In  the  lower  corner  of  this  great  picture,  at  the 
right  hand  of  the  spectator,  is  a  h.deous  figure  of  a 
damned  person,  girdled  about  with  a  serpent,  the 
folds  of  which  are  carefully  knotted  between  his 
thighs,  so  as,  at  all  events,  to  give  no  offence  to 
decency.  This  figure  represents  a  man  who  suggested 
to  Pope  Paul  III.  that  the  nudities  of  the  "Last 
Judgment"  ought  to  be  draped,  for  which  offence 
Michael  Angelo  at  once  consigned  him  to  hell.  It 
shows  what  a  debtor's  prison  and  dungeon  of  private 
torment  men  would  make  of  hell  if  they  had  the 
control  of  it.  As  to  the  nudities,  if  they  were  ever 
more  nude  than  now,  I  should  suppose,  in  their  fresh 
brilliancy,  they  might  well  have  startled  a  not  very 
squeamish  eye.  The  effect,  such  as  it  is,  of  this 
picture,  is  much  injured  by  the  high  altar  and  its 
canopy,  which  stands  close  against  the  wall,  and 
intercepts  a  considerable  portion  of  the  sprawl  of 
nakedness  with  which  Michael  Angelo  has  filled  his 
sky.  However,  I  am  not  unwilling  to  believe,  with 
faith  beyond  what  I  can  actually  see,  that  the  greatest 
pictorial  miracles  ever  yet  achieved  have  been  wrought 
upon  the  walls  and  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  with  Mr.  Thompson  to  see 
what  bargain  could  be  made  with  vetturinos  for 
taking  myself  and  family  to  Florence.  We  talked 
with  three  or  four,  and  found  them  asking  prices  of 
various  enormity,  from  a  hundred  and  fifty  scudi 

VOL.  I.  10 


218  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

down  to  little  more  than  ninety ;  but  Mr.  Thompson 
says  that  they  always  begin  in  this  way,  and  will 
probably  come  down  to  somewhere  about  seventy- 
five.  Mr.  Thompson  took  me  into  the  Via  Porto- 
ghesf3,  and  showed  me  an  old  palace,  above  which 
rose — not  a  very  customary  feature  of  the  architecture 
of  Rome  —  a  tall,  battlemented  tower.  At  one  angle 
of  the  tower  we  saw  a  shrine  of  the  Virgin,  with  a 
lamp,  and  all  the  appendages  of  those  numerous 
shrines  which  we  see  at  the  street  comers,  and  in 
hundreds  of  places  about  the  city.  Three  or  foui 
centuries  ago  this  palace  was  inhabited  by  a  noble 
man  who  had  an  only  son  and  a  large  pet  monkey, 
and  one  day  the  monkey  caught  the  infant  up  and 
clambered  to  this  lofty  turret,  and  sat  there  with  him 
in  his  arms,  grinning  and  chattering  like  the  Devil 
himself.  The  father  was  in  despair,  but  was  afraid 
to  pursue  the  monkey  lest  he  should  fling  down  the 
child  from  the  height  of  the  tower  and  make  his 
escape.  At  last  he  vowed  that  if  the  boy  were  safely 
restored  to  him  he  would  build  a  shrine  at  the  summit 
of  the  tower,  and  cause  it  to  be  kept  as  a  sacred  place 
forever.  By  and  by  the  monkey  came  down  and 
deposited  the  child  on  the  ground ;  the  father  fulfilled 
his  vow,  built  the  shrine,  and  made  it  obligatory  on 
all  future  possessors  of  the  palace  to  keep  the  lamp 
burning  before  it.  Centuries  have  passed,  the  prop 
erty  has  changed  hands;  but  still  there  is  the 
shrine  on  the  giddy  top  of  the  tower,  far  aloft  over 
the  street,  on  the  very  spot  where  the  monkey  sat, 
and  there  burns  the  lamp,  in  memory  of  the  father's 


1858.]  ITALY.  21S 

vow.  This  being  tho  tenure  by  which  the  estate  is 
held,  the  extinguishment  of  that  flame  might  yet  turn 
the  present  owner  out  of  the  palace. 

May  2lsi.  —  Mamma  and  I  went,  yesterday  forenoon, 
to  the  Spada  Palace,  which  we  found  among  the 
intricacies  of  Central  Rome ;  a  dark  and  massive  old 
edifice,  built  around  a  court,  the  fronts  giving  on 
which  are  adorned  with  statues  in  niches,  and  sculp 
tured  ornaments.  A  woman  led  us  up  a  staircase, 
and  ushered  us  into  a  great,  gloomy  hall,  square  and 
lofty,  and  wearing  a  very  gray  and  ancient  aspect, 
its  walls  being  painted  in  chiaro-oscuro,  apparently  a 
great  many  years  ago.  The  hall  was  lighted  by  small 
windows,  high  upward  from  the  floors,  and  admitting 
only  a  dusky  light.  The  only  furniture  or  ornament, 
so  far  as  I  recollect,  was  the  colossal  statue  of  Pompey, 
which  stands  on  its  pedestal  at  one  side,  certainly  the 
sternest  and  severest  of  figures,  and  producing  the  most 
awful  impression  on  the  spectator.  Much  of  the 
effect,  no  doubt,  is  due  to  the  sombre  obscurity  of  the 
hall,  and  to  the  loneliness  in  which  the  great  naked 
statue  stands.  It  is  entirely  nude,  except  for  a  cloak 
that  hangs  down  from  the  left  shoulder ;  in  the  left 
hand,  it  holds  a  globe  ;  the  right  arm  is  extended. 
The  whole  expression  is  such  as  the  statue  might  have 
assumed,  if,  during  the  tumult  of  Caesar's  murder,  it 
had  stretched  forth  its  marble  hand,  and  motioned  the 
conspirators  to  give  over  the  attack,  or  to  be  quiet, 
now  that  their  victim  had  fallen  at  its  feet.  On  the 
left  leg,  about  midway  above  the  ankle,  there  is  a  dull, 
red  stain,  said  to  be  Caesar's  blood ;  but,  of  course,  it 


220  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

is  just  such  a  red  stain  in  the  marble  as  may  be  seen 
on  the  statue  of  Antinoiis  at  the  Capitol.  I  could  not 
see  any  resemblance  in  the  face  of  the  statue  to  that 
of  the  bust  of  Pompey,  shown  as  such  at  the  Capitol, 
in  -which  there  is  not  the  slightest  moral  dignity,  or 
sign  of  intellectual  eminence.  I  am  glad  to  have  seen 
this  statue,  and  glad  to  remember  it  in  that  gray, 
dim,  lofty  hall;  glad  that  there  were  no  bright 
frescos  on  the  walls,  and  that  the  ceiling  was  wrought 
with  massive  beams,  and  the  floor  paved  with  ancient 
brick. 

From  this  anteroom  we  passed  through  several 
saloons  containing  pictures,  some  of  which  were  by 
eminent  artists ;  the  Judith  of  Guido,  a  copy  of  which 
used  to  weary  me  to  death,  year  after  year,  in  the 
Boston  Athenaeum ;  and  many  portraits  of  Cardinals 
in  the  Spada  family,  and  other  pictures  by  Guido. 
There  were  some  portraits,  also  of  the  family,  by 
Titian ;  some  good  pictures  by  Guercino ;  and  many 
which  I  should  have  been  glad  to  examine  more  at 
leisure  ;  but,  by  and  by,  the  custode  made  his  appear 
ance,  and  began  to  close  the  shutters,  under  pretence 
that  the  sunshine  would  injure  the  paintings,  —  an 
effect,  I  presume,  not  very  likely  to  follow  after  two 
or  three  centuries'  exposure  to  light,  air,  and  whatever 
else  might  hurt  them.  However,  the  pictures  seemed 
to  be  in  much  better  condition,  and  more  enjoyable, 
so  far  as  they  had  merit,,  than  those  in  most  JRoman 
picture-galleries  ;  although  the  Spada  Palace  itself 
has  a  decayed  and  impoverished  aspect,  as  if  the 
family  had  dwindled  from  its  former  state  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  221 

grandeur,  and  now,  perhaps,  smuggled  itself  into 
some  out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  old  edifice.  If  such 
be  the  case,  there  is  something  touching  in  their  still 
keeping  possession  of  Pompey's  statue,  which  makes 
their  house  famous,  aud  the  sale  of  which  might  give 
them  the  means  of  building  it  up  anew;  for  surely 
it  is  worth  the  whole  sculpture-gallery  of  the  Vatican. 
In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Thompson  and  I  went,  for 
the  third  or  fourth  time,  to  negotiate  with  vetturinos. 
.  .  So  far  as  I  know  them  they  are  a  very  tricky 
set  of  people,  bent  on  getting  as  much  as  they  can, 
by  hook  or  by  crook,  out  of  the  unfortunate  individual 
who  falls  into  their  hands.  They  begin,  as  I  have 
said,  by  asking  about  twice  as  much  as  they  ought  to 
receive  ;  and  anything  between  this  exorbitant  amount 
and  the  just  price  is  what  they  thank  heaven  for,  as 
so  much  clear  gain.  Nevertheless,  I  am  not  quite 
sure  that  the  Italians  are  worse  than  other  people 
even  in  this  matter.  In  other  countries  it  is  the 
custom  of  persons  in  trade  to  take  as  much  as  they 
can  get  from  the  public,  fleecing  one  man  to  exactly 
the  same  extent  as  another;  here  they  take  what 
they  can  obtain  from  the  individual  customer.  In 
fact,  Roman  tradesmen  do  not  pretend  to  deny  that 
they  ask  and  receive  different  prices  from  different 
people,  taxing  them  according  to  their  supposed 
means  of  payment ;  the  article  supplied  being  the 
same  in  one  case  as  in  another.  A  shopkeeper 
looked  into  his  books  to  see  if  we  were  of  the  class 
who  paid  two  pauls,  of  only  a  paul  and  a  halt'  for 
candles ;  a  charcoal-dealer  said  that  seventy  baiocchi 


222  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

was  a  very  reasonable  sum  for  us  to  pay  for  charcoal, 
and  that  some  persons  paid  eighty  •  and  Mr.  Thompson, 
recognizing  the  rule,  told  the  old  vetturino  that  "  a 
hundred  and  fifty  scudi  was  a  very  proper  charge 
for  carrying  a  prince  to  Florence,  but  not  for  carrying 
me,  who  was  merely  a  very  good  artist."  The  result 
is  well  enough ;  the  rich  man  lives  expensively,  and 
pays  a  larger  share  of  the  profits  which  people  of  a 
different  system  of  trade-morality  would  take  equally 
from  the  poor  man.  The  effect  on  the  conscience  of 
the  vetturino,  however,  and  of  tradesmen  of  all  kinds, 
cannot  be  good;  their  only  intent  being,  not  to  do 
justice  between  man  and  man,  but  to  go  as  deep  as 
they  can  into  all  pockets,  and  to  the  very  bottom  of 
some. 

We  had  nearly  concluded  a  bargain,  a  day  or  two 
ago,  with  a  vetturino  to  take  or  send  us  to  Florence, 
via  Perugia,  in  eight  days,  for  a  hundred  scudi ;  but 
he  now  drew  back,  under  pretence  of  having  misun 
derstood  the  terms,  though,  in  reality,  no  doubt,  he 
was  in  hopes  of  getting  a  better  bargain  from  some 
body  else.  We  made  an  agreement  with  another 
man,  whom  Mr.  Thompson  knows  and  highly  recom 
mends,  and  immediately  made  it  sure  and  legally 
binding  by  exchanging  a  formal  written  contract,  in 
which  everything  is  set  down,  even  to  milk,  butter, 
bread,  eggs,  and  coffee,  which  we  are  to  have  for 
break  fast ;  the  vetturino  being  to  pay  every  expense 
for  himself,  his  horses,  and  his  passengers,  and  include 
it  within  ninety-five  scudi,  and  five  crowns  in  addition 
for  buon-mano 


1858.]  ITALY.  223 

May  22d.  —  Yesterday,  while  we  were   at  dinner, 

Mr. called.     I  never  saw  him  but  once  before, 

and  that  was  at  the  door  of  our  little  red  cottage  in 
Lenox  ;  he  sitting  in  a  wagon  with  one  or  two  of  the 
Sedge  wicks,  merely  exchanging  a  greeting  with  me 
from  under  the  brim  of  his  straw  hat,  and  driving  on. 
He  presented  himself  now  with  a  long  white  beard, 
such  as  a  palmer  might  have  worn  as  the  growth  of 
his  long  pilgrimages,  a  brow  almost  entirely  bald, 
and  what  hair  he  has  quite  hoary;  a  forehead  im 
pending,  yet  not  massive ;  dark,  bushy  eyebrows  and 
keen  eyes,  without  much  softness  in  them ;  a  dark 
and  sallow  complexion  ;  a  slender  figure,  bent  a  little 
with  age  ;  but  at  once  alert  and  infirm.  It  surprised 
me  to  see  him  so  venerable  ;  for,  as  poets  are  Apollo's 
kinsmen,  we  are  inclined  to  attribute  to  them  his 
enviable  quality  of  never  growing  old.  There  was 
a  weary  look  in  his  face,  as  if  he  were  tired  of  see 
ing  things  and  doing  things,  though  with  certainly 
enough  still  to  see  and  do,  if  need  were.  My  family 
gathered  about  him,  and  he  conversed  with  great 
readiness  and  simplicity  about  his  travels,  and  what 
ever  other  subject  came  up ;  telling  us  that  he  had 
been  abroad  five  times,  and  was  now  getting  a  little 
home-sick,  and  had  no  more  eagerness  for  sights, 
though  his  "gals"  (as  he  called  his  daughter  and 
another  young  lady)  dragged  him  out  to  see  the 
wonders  of  Rome  again.  His  manners  and  whole 
aspect  are  very  particularly  plain,  though  not  affect 
edly  so  ;  but  it  seems  as  if  in  the  decline  of  life,  and 
the  security  of  his  position,  he  had  put  off  whatever 


224  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

artificial  polish  he  may  have  heretofore  had,  and  re 
sumed  the  simpler  habits  and  deportment  of  his  early 
New  England  breeding.  Not  but  what  you  discover, 
nevertheless,  that  he  is  a  man  of  refinement,  who*  has 
seen  the  world,  and  is  well  aware  of  his  own  place  in 
it.  He  spoke  with  great  pleasure  of  his  recent  visit 
to  Spain.  I  introduced  the  subject  of  Kansas,  and 
methought  his  face  forthwith  assumed  something  of 
the  bitter  keenness  of  the  editor  of  a  political  news 
paper,  while  speaking  of  the  triumph  of  the  admin 
istration  over  the  free-soil  opposition.  I  inquired 

whether  he  had  seen  S ,  and  he  gave  a  very  sad 

account  of  him  as  he  appeared  at  their  last  meeting, 

which  was  in  Paris.     S ,  he  thought,  had  suffered 

terribly,  and  would  never  again  be  the  man  he  was; 
he  was  getting  fat ;  he  talked  continually  of  himself, 
and  of  trifles  concerning  himself,  and  seemed  to  have 

no  interest  for  other  matters ;  and  Mr.  feared 

that  the  shock  upon  his  nerves  had  extended  to  his 

intellect,  and  was  irremediable.     He  said  that  S 

ought  to  retire  from  public  life,  but  had  no  friend 
true  enough  to  tell  him  so.  This  is  about  as  sad  as 

anything  can  be.     I  hate  to  have  S undergo  the 

fate  of  a  martyr,  because  he  was  not  naturally  of  the 
stuff  that  martyrs  are  made  of,  and  it  is  altogether 
by  mistake  that  ho  has  thrust  himself  into  the  posi 
tion  of  one.  He  was  merely,  though  with  excellent 
abilities,  one  of  the  best  of  fellows,  and  ought  to  have 
lived  and  died  in  good  fellowship  with  all  the  world. 

S was  not  in  the  least  degree  excited  about  this 

or  any  other  subject.     He  uttered  neither  passion  nor 


1858.1  ITALY.  225 

poetry,  but  excellent  good  sense,  and  accurate  in 
formation  on  whatever  subject  transpired ;  a  very 
pleasant  man  to  associate  with,  but  rather  cold,  I 
should  imagine,  if  one  should  seek  to  touch  his  heart 
with  one's  own.  He  shook  hands  kindly  all  round, 
but  not  with  any  warmth  of  gripe  ;  although  the  ease 
of  his  deportment  had  put  us  all  on  sociable  terms 
with  him. 

At  seven  o'clock,  we  went  by  invitation  to  take  tea 
with  Miss  Bremer.  After  much  search,  and  lumber 
ing  painfully  up  two  or  three  staircases  in  vain,  and 
at  last  going  about  in  a  strange  circuity,  we  found 
her  in  a  small  chamber  of  a  large  old  building,  situ 
ated  a  little  way  from  the  brow  of  the  Tarpeian  Rock. 
It  was  the  tiniest  and  humblest  domicile  that  I  have 
seen  in  Rome,  just  large  enough  to  hold  her  narrow 
bed,  her  tea-table,  and  a  table  covered  with  books,  — 
photographs  of  Roman  ruins,  and  some  pages  written 
by  herself.  I  wonder  whether  she  be  poor.  Probably 
so  ;  for  she  told  us  that  her  expense  of  living  here  is 
only  five  pauls  a  day.  She  welcomed  us,  however, 
with  the  greatest  cordiality  and  ladylike  simplicity, 
making  no  allusion  to  the  humbleness  of  her  environ 
ment  (and  making  us  also  lose  sight  of  it,  by  the 
absence  of  all  apology)  any  more  than  if  she  were 
receiving  us  in  a  palace.  There  is  not  a  better  bred 
woman  ;  and  yet  one  does  not  think  whether  she  has 
any  breeding  or  no.  Her  little  bit  of  a  round  table 
was  already  spread  for  us  with  her  blue  earthenware 
teacups  ;  and  after  she*  had  got  through  an  interview 
with  the  Swedish  Minister,  and  dismissed  him  with  a 
10*  o 


226  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l858. 

hearty  pressure  of  his  hand  between  both  her  own, 
she  gave  us  our  tea,  and  some  bread,  and  a  mouthful 
of  cake.  Meanwhile,  as  the  day  declined,  there  had 
been  the  most  beautiful  view  over  the  campagna,  out 
of  one  of  her  windows ;  and,  from  the  other,  looking 
towards  St.  Peter's,  the  broad  gleam  of  a  mildly 
glorious  sunset ;  not  so  pompous  and  magnificent  as 
many  that  I  have  seen  in  America,  but  softer  and 
sweeter  in  all  its  changes.  As  its  lovely  hues  died 
slowly  away,  the  half-moon  shone  out  brighter  and 
brighter  ;  for  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  it 
seemed  like  the  moonlight  of  my  younger  days.  In 
the  garden,  beneath  her  window,  verging  upon  the 
Tarpeian  Rock,  there  was  shrubbery  and  one  large 
tree,  softening  the  brow  of  the  famous  precipice, 
adown  which  the  old  Romans  used  to  fling  their 
traitors,  or  sometimes,  indeed,  their  patriots. 

Miss  Bremer  talked  plentifully  in  her  strange 
manner,  —  good  English  enough  for  a  foreigner,  but 
so  oddly  intonated  and  accented,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  be  sure  of  more  than  one  word  in  ten.  Being  so 
little  comprehensible,  it  is  very  singular  how  she 
contrives  to  make  her  auditors  so  perfectly  certain,  as 
they  are,  that  she  is  talking  the  best  sense,  and  in 
the  kindliest  spirit.  There  is  no  better  heart  than 
hers,  and  not  many  sounder  heads ;  and  a  little  touch 
of  sentiment  comes  delightfully  in,  mixed  up  with  a 
quick  and  delicate  humor  and  the  most  perfect  sim 
plicity.  There  is  also  a  very  pleasant  atmosphere  of 
maidenhood  about  her ;  we  are  sensible  of  a  freshness 
and  odor  of  the  morning  still  in  this  littls  withered 


1858.]  ITALY.  227 

rose,  —  its  recompense  for  never  having  been  gathered 
and  \forn,  but  only  diff using  fragrance  on  its  stem. 
I  forget  mainly  what  we  talked  about,  —  a  good  deal 
about  art,  of  course,  although  that  is  a  subject  of 
which  Miss  Bremer  evidently  knows  nothing.  Once 
we  spoke  of  fleas,  —  insects  that,  in  Rome,  come  home 
to  everybody's  business  and  bosom,  and  are  so  com 
mon  and  inevitable,  that  no  delicacy  is  felt  about  al 
luding  to  the  sufferings  they  inflict.  Poor  little  Miss 
Bremer  was  tormented  with  one  while  turning  out  our 
tea She  talked,  among  other  things,  of  the  win 
ters  in  Sweden,  and  said  that  she  liked  them,  long  and 
severe  as  they  are ;  and  this  made  me  feel  ashamed  of 
dreading  the  winters  of  New  England,  as  I  did  before 
coming  from  home,  and  do  now  still  more,  after  five 
or  six  mild  English  Decembers. 

By  and  by,  two  young  ladies  came  in,  —  Miss 
Bremer's  neighbors,  it  seemed,  —  fresh  from  a  long 
walk  on  the  campagna,  fresh  and  weary  at  the  same 
time.  One  apparently  was  German,  and  the  other 
French,  and  they  brought  her  an  offering  of  flowers, 
and  chattered  to  her  with  affectionate  vivacity ;  and, 
as  we  were  about  taking  leave,  Miss  Bremer  asked 
them  to  accompany  her  and  us  on  a  visit  to  the  edge 
of  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  Before  we  left  the  room,  she 
took  a  bunch  of  roses  that  were  in  a  vase,  and  gave 
them  to  Miss  Shepard,  who  told  her  that  she  should 
make  her  six  sisters  happy  by  giving  one  to  each. 
Then  we  went  down  the  intricate  stairs,  and,  emer 
ging  into  the  garden,  walked  round  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  which  plunges  headlong  with  exceeding  abrupt- 


228  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ness;  but,  so  far  as  I  could  see  in  the  moonlight, 
is  no  longer  quite  a  precipice.  Then  we  re-entered 
the  house,  and  went  up  stairs  and  down  again, 
through  intricate  passages,  till  we  got  into  the  street, 
which  was  still  peopled  with  the  ragamuffins  who 
infest  and  burrow  in  that  part  of  Eome.  We  re 
turned  through  an  archway,  and  descended  the  broad 
flight  of  steps  into  the  piazza  of  the  Capitol ;  and 
from  the  extremity  of  it,  just  at  the  head  of  the  long 
graded  way,  where  Castor  and  Pollux  and  the  old 
milestones  stand,  we  turned  to  the  left,  and  followed 
a  somewhat  winding  path,  till  we  came  into  the  court 
of  a  palace.  This  court  is  bordered  by  a  parapet, 
leaning  over  which  we  saw  the  sheer  precipice  of  the 
Tarpei*n  Eock,  about  the  height  of  a  four-story 

house 

On  the  edge  of  this,  before  we  left  the  court,  Miss 
Bremer  bade  us  farewell,  kissing  my  wife  most  affec 
tionately  on  each  cheek,  ....  and  then  turning 
towards  myself,  ....  she  pressed  my  hand,  and  wo 
parted,  probably  never  to  meet  again.  God  bless 
her  good  heart  !  .  .  .  .  She  is  a  most  amiable  little 
woman,  worthy  to  be  the  maiden  aunt  of  the  wholo 
human  race.  I  suspect,  by  the  by,  that  she  does  not 
like  me  half  so  well  as  I  do  her ;  it  is  my  impression 
that  she  thinks  me  unamiable,  or  that  there  is  some 
thing  or  other  not  quite  right  about  me.  I  am  sorry 
if  it  be  so,  because  such  a  good,  kindly,  clear-sighted, 
and  delicate  person  is  very  apt  to  have  reason  at  the 
bottom  of  her  harsh  thoughts,  when,  in  rare  cases, 
she  allows  them  to  harbor  with  her. 


1858.]  ITALY.  229 

To-day,  and  for  some  days  past,  we  have  been  in 
quest  of  lodgings  for  next  winter ;  a  weary  search,  up 
interminable  staircases,  which  seduce  us  upward  to  no 
successful  result.  It  is  very  disheartening  not  to  be 
able  to  place  the  slightest  reliance  on  the  integrity  of 
the  people  we  are  to  deal  with ;  not  to  believe  in  any 
connection  between  their  words  and  their  purposes ; 
to  know  that  they  are  certainly  telling  you  falsehoods, 
while  you  are  not  in  a  position  to  catch  hold  of  the  lie, 
and  hold  it  up  in  their  faces. 

This  afternoon  we  called  on  Mr.  and  Mrs. at 

the  Hotel  de  1'Europe,  but  found  only  the  former  at 
•home.  We  had  a  pleasant  visit,  but  I  made  no  obser 
vations  of  his  character  save  such  as  I  have  already 
sufficiently  recorded  ;  and  when  we  had  been  with 
him  a  little  while,  Mrs.  Chapman,  the  artist's  wife, 
Mr.  Terry,  and  my  friend,  Mr.  Thompson,  came  in. 

received  them  all  with  the  same  good  degree  of 

cordiality  that  he  did  ourselves,  not  cold,  not  very 
warm,  not  annoyed,  not  ecstatically  delighted ;  a  man, 
I  should  suppose,  not  likely  to  have  ardent  individual 
preferences,  though  perhaps  capable  of  stern  individual 
dislikes.  But  I  take  him,  at  all  events,  to  be  a  very 
upright  man,  and  pursuing  a  narrow  track  of  integrity; 
he  is  a  man  whom  I  would  never  forgive  (as  I  would 
a  thousand  other  men)  for  the  slightest  moral  delin 
quency.  I  would  not  be  bound  to  say,  however,  that 
he  has  not  the  little  sin  of  a  fretful  and  peevish  habil ; 
and  yet  perhaps  I  am  a  sinner  myself  for  thinking  so. 

May  23d.  —  This  morning  I  breakfasted  at  William 
Story's,  and  met  there  Mr.  Bryant,  Mr.  T (an 


230  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

English  gentleman),  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Apthorp,  Miss 
Hosmer,  and  one  or  two  other  ladies.  Bryant  was 
very  quiet,  and  made  no  conversation  audible  to  the 
general  table.  Mr.  T  -  talked  of  English  politics 
and  public  men  ;  the  "  Times  "  and  other  newspapers, 
English  clubs  and  social  habits  generally  ;  topics  in 
which  I  could  well  enough  bear  my  part  of  the  discus 
sion.  After  breakfast,  and  aside  from  the  ladies,  he 
mentioned  an  illustration  of  Lord  Ellenborough's  lack 
of  administrative  ability,  —  a  proposal  seriously  made 
by  his  lordship  in  reference  to  the  refractory  Se- 


We  had  a  very  pleasant  breakfast,  and  certainly  a  . 
break  fast  is  much  preferable  to  a  dinner,  not  merely 
in  the  enjoyment  while  it  is  passing,  but  afterwards. 
I  made  a  good  suggestion  to  Miss  Hosmer  for  the  de 
sign  of  a  fountain,  —  a  lady  bursting  into  tears,  water 
gushing  from  a  thousand  pores,  in  literal  translation 
of  the  phrase  ;  and  to  call  the  statue  "  Niobe,  all 
Tears."  I  doubt  whether  she  adopts  the  idea;  but 
Bernini  would  have  been  delighted  with  it.  I  should 
think  the  gush  of  water  might  be  so  arranged  as  to 
form  a  beautiful  drapery  about  the  figure,  swaying 
and  fluttering  with  every  breath  of  -wind,  and  re 
arranging  itself  in  the  calm  ;  in  which  case,  the  lady 
might  be  said  to  have  "  a  habit  of  weeping."  .... 
Apart,  with  William  Story,  he  and  I  talked  of  the 
unluckincss  of  Friday,  etc.  I  like  him  particularly 
well  ..... 

We  have  been  plagued  to-day  with  our  preparations 
fox  leaving  Rome  to-morrow,  and  especially  with  veri- 


1858.]  ITALY.  231 

fying  the  inventory  of  furniture,  before  giving  up  tho 
house  to  our  landlord.  He  and  his  daughter  have 
been  examining  every  separate  article,  down  even  to 
the  kitchen  skewers,  I  believe,  and  charging  us  to  the 
amount  of  several  scudi  for  cracks  and  breakages, 
which  very  probably  existed  when  we  came  into 
possession.  It  is  very  uncomfortable  to  have  dealings 
with  such  a  mean  people  (though  our  landlord  is 
German),  —  mean  in  their  business  transactions ;  mean 
even  in  their  beggary  ;  for  the  beggars  seldom  ask  for 
more  than  a  mezzo  baioccho,  though  they  sometimes 
grumble  when  you  suit  your  gratuity  exactly  to  their 
petition.  It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  the  Italians 
have  great  faith  in  the  honor  of  the  English  and  Amer 
icans,  and  never  hesitate  to  trust  entire  strangers,  to 
any  reasonable  extent,  on  the  strength  of  their  being 
of  the  honest  Anglo-Saxon  race. 

This  evening,  U and  I  took  a  farewell  walk  in 

the  Pincian  Gardens  to  see  the  sunset ;  and  found 
them  crowded  with  people,  promenading  and  listening 
to  the  music  of  the  French  band.  It  was  the  feast  of 
Whitsunday,  which  probably  brought  a  greater  throng 
than  usual  abroad. 

When  the  sun  went  down,  we  descended  into  the 
Piazza  del  Popolo,  and  thence  into  the  Via  Pvipetta, 
and  emerged  through  a  gate  to  the  shore  of  the  Tiber, 
along  which  there  is  a  pleasant  walk  beneath  a  grove 
of  trees.  We  traversed  it  once  and  back  again,  looking 
at  the  rapid  river,  which  still  kept  its  mud-puddly 
aspect  even  in  the  clea'V  twilight,  and  beneath  the 
brightening  moon.  The  great  bell  of  St.  Peter's  tolled 


232  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

with  a  deep  boom,  a  grand  and  solemn  sound ;  the 
moon  gleamed  through  the  branches  of  the  trees  above 

us ;  and  U spoke  with  somewhat  alarming  fervor 

of  her  love  for  Rome,  and  regret  at  leaving  it.  We 
shall  have  done  the  child  no  good  office  in  bringing 
her  here,  if  the  rest  of  her  life  is  to  be  a  dream  of  this 
"city  of  the  soul,"  and  an  unsatisfied  yearning  to 
come  back  to  it.  On  the  other  hand,  nothing  elevating 
and  refining  can  be  really  injurious,  and  so  I  hope  she 
will  always  be  the  better  for  Rome,  even  if  her  life 
should  be  spent  where  there  are  no  pictures,  no  stat 
ues,  nothing  but  the  dry  ness  and  meagreness  of  a  New 
England  village. 

JOURNEY  TO  FLORENCE. 

Civita  Castellana,  May  %\tli. — We  left  Rome  this 
morning,  after  troubles  of  various  kinds,  and  a  dis 
pute  in  the  first  place  with  Lalla,  our  female  servant, 

and  her  mother Mother  and  daughter  exploded 

into  a  livid  rage,  and  cursed  us  plentifully,  —  wishing 
that  we  might  never  come  to  our  journey's  end,  and 
that  we  might  all  break  our  necks  or  die  of  apoplexy, 
—  the  most  awful  curse  that  an  Italian  knows  how  to 
invoke  upon  his  enemies,  because  it  precludes  the 
possibility  of  extreme  unction.  However,  as  we  are 
heretics,  and  certain  of  damnation  therefore,  anyhow, 
it  does  not  much  matter  to  us ;  and  also  the  anathe 
mas  may  have  been  blown  back  upon  those  who  in 
voked  them,  like  the  curses  that  were  flung  out  from 
the  balcony  of  St.  Peter's  during  Holy  Week  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  233 

wafted  by  heaven's  breezes  right  into  the  faces  of  some 
priests  who  stood  near  the  pope.  Next  we  had  a 
disagreement  with  two  men  who  brought  down  our 
luggage,  and  put  it  on  the  -vetturo ;  .  .  .  .  and,  lastly, 
we  were  infested  with  beggars,  who  hung  round  the 
carriages  with  doleful  petitions,  till  we  began  to  move 
away ;  but  the  previous  warfare  had  put  me  into  too 
stern  a  mood  for  almsgiving,  so  that  they  also  were 
doubtless  inclined  to  curse  more  than  to  bless,  and  I 
am  persuaded  that  we  drove  off  under  a  perfect 
shower  of  anathemas. 

We  passed  through  the  Porta  del  Popolo  at  about 
eight  o'clock ;  and  after  a  moment's  delay,  while  the 
passport  was  examined,  began  our  journey  along  the 
Flaminian  Way,  between  two  such  high  and  inhospi 
table  walls  of  brick  or  stone,  as  seem  to  shut  in  all  the 
avenues  to  Rome.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  we 
heard  military  music  in  advance  of  us,  and  saw  the 
road  blocked  up  with  people,  and  then  the  glitter  of 
muskets,  and  soon  appeared  the  drummers,  fifers,  and 
trumpeters,  and  then  the  first  battalion  of  a  French 
regiment,  marching  into  the  city,  with  two  mounted 
officers  at  their  head ;  then  appeared  a  second  and 
then  a  third  battalion,  the  whole  seeming  to  make 
almost  an  army,  though  the  number  on  their  caps 
showed  them  all  to  belong  to  one  regiment,  — the  1st ; 
then  came  a  battery  of  artillery,  then  a  detachment  of 
horse,  —  these  last,  by  the  crossed  keys  on  their  hel 
mets,  being  apparently  papal  troops.  All  were  young, 
fresh,  good-looking  men,  in  excellent  trim  as  to  uni 
form  and  equipments,  and  marched  rather  as  if  they 


234  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

were  setting  out  on  a  campaign  than  returning  from 
it ;  the  fact  being,  I  believe,  that  they  have  been  en 
camped  or  in  barracks  within  a  few  miles  of  the  city. 
Nevertheless,  it  reminded  me  of  the  military  proces 
sions  of  various  kinds  which  so  often,  two  thousand 
years  ago  and  more,  have  entered  Rome  over  the  Fla- 
minian  Way,  and  over  all  the  roads  that  led  to  the 
famous  city,  —  triumphs  oftenest,  but  sometimes  the 
downcast  train  of  a  defeated  army,  like  those  who  re 
treated  before  Hannibal.  On  the  whole,  I  was  not 
sorry  to  see  the  Gauls  still  pouring  into  Rome  ;  but 
yet  I  begin  to  find  that  I  have  a  strange  affection  for 
it,  and  so  did  we  all,  —  the  rest  of  the  family  in  a 
greater  degree  than  myself  even.  It  is  very  singular, 
the  sad  embrace  with  which  Rome  takes  possession  of 
the  soul.  Though  we  intend  to  return  in  a  few 
months,  and  for  a  longer  residence  than  this  has  been, 
yet  we  felt  the  city  pulling  at  our  heartstrings  far 
more  than  London  did,  where  we  shall  probably  never 
spend  much  time  again.  It  may  be  because  the  in 
tellect  finds  a  home  there  more  than  in  any  other  spot 
in  the  world,  and  wins  the  heart  to  stay  with  it,  in 
spite  of  a  good  many  things  strewn  all  about  to  dis 
gust  us. 

The  road  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  way  was  not 
particularly  picturesque,  —  the  country  undulated,  but 
scarcely  rose  into  hills,  and  was  destitute  of  trees ; 
there  were  a  few  shapeless  ruins,  too  indistinct  for  us 
to  make  out  whether  they  were  Roman  or  mediaeval. 
Nothing  struck  me  so  much,  in  the  forenoon,  as  the 
spectacle  of  a  peasant  woman  riding  on  horseback  as 


1858.]  ITALY.  235 

if  she  were  a  man.  The  houses  were  few,  and  those 
of  a  dreary  aspect,  built  of  gray  stone,  and  looking 
bare  and  desolate,  with  not  the  slightest  promise  of 
comfort  within  doors.  We  passed  two  or  three  lo- 
candas  or  inns,  and  finally  came  to  the  village  (if  vil 
lage  it  were,  for  I  remember  no  houses  except  our 
osteria)  of  Castel  Nuovo  di  Porta,  where  we  were  to 
take  a  dejeuner  ci  la  fourchette,  which  was  put  upon 
the  table  between  twelve  and  one.  On  this  journey, 
according  to  the  custom  of  travellers  in  Italy,  we  pay 
the  vetturino  a  certain  sum,  and  live  at  his  expense  ; 
and  this  meal  was  the  first  specimen  of  his  catering  on 
our  behalf.  It  consisted  of  a  beefsteak,  rather  dry 
and  hard,  but  not  unpalatable,  and  a  large  omelette ; 
and  for  beverage,  two  quart  bottles  of  red  wine,  which, 

being  tasted,  had  an  agreeable  acid  flavor The 

locanda  was  built  of  stone,  and  had  what  looked  like 
an  old  Roman  altar  in  the  basement-hall,  and  a 
shrine,  with  a  lamp  before  it,  on  the  staircase  ;  and 
the  large  public  saloon  in  which  we  ate  had  a  brick 
floor,  a  ceiling  with  cross-beams,  meagrely  painted  in 
fresco,  and  a  scanty  supply  of  chairs  and  settees. 

After  lunch,  we  wandered  out  into  a  valley  or 
ravine  near  the  house,  where  we  gathered  some 

flowers,  and  J found  a  nest  with  the  young  birds 

in  it,  which,  however,  he  put  back  into  the  bush 
whence  he  took  it. 

Our  afternoon  drive  was  more  picturesque  and 
noteworthy.  Soracte  rose  before  us,  bulging  up 
quite  abruptly  out  of  the  plain,  and  keeping  itself 
entirely  distinct  from  a  whole  horizon  of  hills.  Byrou 


236  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

well  compares  it  to  a  wave  just  on  the  bend,  and 
about  to  break  over  towards  the  spectator.  As  we 
approached  it  nearer  and  nearer,  it  looked  like  the 
barrenest  great  rock  that  ever  protruded  out  of  the 
substance  of  the  earth,  with  scarcely  a  strip  or  a 
spot  of  verdure  upon  its  steep  and  gray  declivities. 
The  road  kept  trending  towards  the  mountain,  fol 
lowing  the  line  of  the  old  Flaminian  Way,  which 
we  could  see,  at  frequent  intervals,  close  beside  the 
modern  track.  It  is  paved  with  large  flag-stones, 
laid  so  accurately  together,  that  it  is  still,  in  some 
places,  as  smooth  and  even  as  the  floor  of  a  church ; 
and  everywhere  the  tufts  of  grass  find  it  difficult 
to  root  themselves  into  the  interstices.  Its  course 
is  straighter  than  that  of  the  road  of  to-day,  which 
often  turns  aside  to  avoid  obstacles  which  the  ancient 
one  surmounted.  Much  of  it,  probably,  is  covered 
with  the  soil  and  overgrowth  deposited  in  later 
years ;  and,  now  and  then,  we  could  see  its  flag 
stones  partly  protruding  from  the  bank  through 
which  our  road  has  been  cut,  and  thus  showing  that 
the  thickness  of  this  massive  pavement  was  more 
than  a  foot  of  solid  stone.  We  lost  it  over  and  over 
again ;  but  still  it  reappeared,  now  on  one  side  of 
us,  now  on  the  other  ;  perhaps  from  beneath  the 
roots  of  old  trees,  or  the  pasture-land  of  a  thousand 
years  old,  and  leading  on  towards  the  base  of 
Soracte.  I  forget  where  we  finally  lost  it.  Passing 
through  a  town  called  llignano,  we  found  it  dressed 
out  in  festivity,  with  festoons  of  foliage  along  both 
sides  of  the  street,  which  ran  beneath  a  triumphal 


1858.]  ITALY.  23? 

arch,  bearing  an  inscription  in  honor  of  a  ducal 
personage  of  the  Massinii  family.  I  know  no  occa 
sion  for  the  feast,  except  that  it  is  Whitsuntide. 
The  town  was  thronged  with  peasants,  in  their  best 
attire,  and  we  met  others  on  their  way  thither,  par 
ticularly  women  and  girls,  with  heads  bare  in  the 
sunshine ;  but  there  was  no  tiptoe  jollity,  nor,  in 
deed,  any  more  show  of  festivity  than  I  have  seen 
in  my  own  country  at  a  cattle-show  or  muster. 
Beally,  I  think,  not  half  so  much. 

The  road  still  grew  more  and  more  picturesque, 
and  now  lay  along  ridges,  at  the  bases  of  which 
were  deep  ravines  and  hollow  valleys.  Woods  were 
not  wanting;  wilder  forest  than  I  have  seen  since 
leaving  America,  of  oak-trees  chiefly ;  and,  among 
the  green  foliage,  grew  golden  tufts  of  broom, 
making  a  gay  and  lovely  combination  of  hues.  I 
must  not  forget  to  mention  the  poppies,  which 
burned  like  live  coals  along  the  wayside,  and  lit 
up  the  landscape,  even  a  single  one  of  them,  with 
wonderful  effect.  At  other  points,  we  saw  olive- 
trees,  hiding  their  eccentricity  of  boughs  under  thick 
masses  of  foliage  of  a  livid  tint,  which  is  caused,  I 
believe,  by  their  turning  their  reverse  sides  to  the 
light  and  to  the  spectator.  Vines  were  abundant, 
but  were  of  little  account  in  the  scene.  By  and  by 
we  came  in  sight  of  the  high,  flat  table-land,  on 
which  stands  Civita  Castellana,  and  beheld,  straight 
downward,  between  us  and  the  town,  a  deep  level 
valley  with  a  river  winding  through  it ;  it  was  the 
valley  of  the  Treja.  A  precipice,  hundreds  of  feet  in 


238  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

height,  falls  perpendicularly  upon  the  valley,  from 
the  site  of  Civita  Castellana ;  there  is  an  equally 
abrupt  one,  probably,  on  the  side  from  which  we 
saw  it;  and  a  modern  road,  skilfully  xionstructed, 
goes  winding  down  to  the  stream,  crosses  it  by  a 
narrow  stone  bridge,  and  winds  upward  into  the 
town.  After  passing  over  the  bridge,  I  alighted, 

with  J and  R ,  ....  and  made  the  ascent 

on  foot,  along  walls  of  natural  rock,  in  which  old 
Etruscan  tombs  were  hollowed  out.  There  are  like 
wise  antique  remains  of  masonry,  whether  Roman 
or  of  what  earlier  period,  I  cannot  tell.  At  the 
summit  of  the  acclivity,  which  brought  us  close  to 
the  town,  our  vetturino  took  us  into  the  carriage 
again  and  quickly  brought  us  to  what  appears  to  be 
really  a  good  hotel,  where  all  of  us  are  accommo 
dated  with  sleeping-chambers  in  a  range,  beneath 
an  arcade,  entirely  secluded  from  the  rest  of  the 
population  of  the  hotel.  After  a  splendid  dinner 
(that  is,  splendid,  considering  that  it  was  ordered 

by  our  hospitable  vetturino),  U -,  Miss  Shepard, 

J ,  and  I  walked  out    of  the   little  town,  in  the 

opposite  direction  from  our  entrance,  and  crossed  a 
bridge  at  the  height  of  the  table-land,  instead  of 
at  its  base.  On  either  side,  we  had  a  view  down 
into  a  profound  gulf,  with  sides  of  precipitous  rock, 
and  heaps  of  foliage  in  its  lap,  through  which  ran 
the  snowy  track  of  a  stream ;  here  snowy,  there 
dark ;  here  hidden  among  the  foliage,  there  quite 
revealed  in  the  broad  depths  of  the  gulf.  This  was 
wonderfully  fine.  Walking  on  a  little  farther,  So- 


1858.]  ITALY.  239 

racte  came  fully  into  view,  starting  with  bold  ab 
ruptness  out  of  the  middle  of  the  country;  and 
before  we  got  back,  the  bright  Italian  moon  was 
throwing  a  shower  of  silver  over  the  scene,  and 
making  it  so  beautiful  that  it  seemed  miserable  not 
to  know  how  to  put  it  into  words ;  a  foolish  thought, 
however,  for  such  scenes  are  an  expression  in  them 
selves,  and  need  not  be  translated  into  any  feebler 
language.  On  our  walk,  we  met  parties  of  laborers, 
both  men  and  women,  returning  from  the  fields, 
with  rakes  and  wooden  forks  over  their  shoulders, 
singing  in  chorus.  It  is  very  customary  for  women 
to  be  laboring  in  the  fields. 


TO  TERNI.  —  BORGHETTO. 

May  25th.  —  We  were  aroused  at  four  o'clock  this 
morning;  had  some  eggs  and  coffee,  and  were  ready 
to  start  between  five  and  six  ;  being  thus  matutinary, 
in  order  to  get  to  Terni  in  time  to  see  the  falls.  The 
road  was  very  striking  and  picturesque ;  but  I  remem 
ber  nothing  particularly,  till  we  came  to  Borghetto, 
which  stands  on  a  bluff,  with  a  broad  valley  sweeping 
round  it,  through  the  midst  of  which  flows  the  Tiber. 
There  is  an  old  castle  on  a  projecting  point ;  and  we 
saw  other  battlemented  fortresses,  of  mediaeval  date, 
along  our  way,  forming  more  beautiful  ruins  than  any 
of  the  Roman  remains  to  which  we  have  become 
accustomed.  This  is  partly,  I  suppose,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  they  have  been  neglected,  and  allowed  to 
mantle  their  decay  with  ivy,  instead  of  being  cleaned, 


240  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

propped  up,  and  restored.  The  antiquarian  is  apt  to 
spoil  the  objects  that  interest  him. 

Sometimes  we  passed  through  wildernesses  of  vari 
ous  trees,  each  contributing  a  different  hue  of  verdure 
to  the  scene ;  the  vine,  also,  marrying  itself  to  the  fig- 
tree,  so  that  a  man  might  sit  in  the  shadow  of  both  at 
once,  and  temper  the  luscious  sweetness  of  the  one 
fruit  with  the  fresh  flavor  of  the  other.  The  wayside 
incidents  were  such  as  meeting  a  man  and  woman 
borne  along  as  prisoners,  handcuffed,  and  in  a  cart ; 
two  men  reclining  across  one  another,  asleep,  and 
lazily  lifting  their  heads  to  gaze  at  us  as  we  passed  by ; 
a  woman  spinning  with  a  distaff  as  she  walked  along 
the  road.  An  old  tomb  or  tower  stood  in  a  lonely 
field,  and  several  caves  were  hollowed  in  the  rocks, 
which  might  have  been  either  sepulchres  or  habita 
tions.  Soracte  kept  us  company,  sometimes  a  little 
on  one  side,  sometimes  behind,  looming  up  again  and 
again,  when  we  thought  that  we  had  done  with  it,  and 
so  becoming  rather  tedious  at  last,  like  a  person  who 
presents  himself  for  another  and  another  leave-taking 
after  the  one  which  ought  to  have  been  final.  Honey 
suckles  sweetened  the  hedges  along  the  road. 

After  leaving  Borghetto,  we  crossed  the  broad  valley 
of  the  Tiber,  and  skirted  along  one  of  the  ridges  that 
border  it,  looking  back  upon  the  road  that  we  had 
passed,  lying  white  behind  us.  We  saw  a  field  covered 
with  buttercups,  or  some  other  yellow  flower,  and 
poppies  burned  along  the  roadside,  as  they  did  yes 
terday,  and  there  were  flowers  of  a  delicious  blue,  as 
if  the  blue  Italian  sky  had  been  broken  into  little  bits, 


1858.]  ITALY.  241 

and  scattered  down  upon  the  green  earth.  Otricoli 
by  and  by  appeared,  situated  on  a  bold  promontory 
above  the  valley,  a  village  of  a  few  gray  houses  and 
huts,  with  one  edifice  gaudily  painted  in  white  and 
pink.  It  looked  more  important  at  a  distance  than 
we  found  it  on  our  nearer  approach.  As  the  road 
kept  ascending,  and  as  the  hills  grew  to  be  mountains, 
we  had  taken  two  additional  horses,  making  six  in  all, 
with  a  man  and  boy  running  beside  them,  to  keep 
them  in  motion.  The  boy  had  two  club  feet,  so  incon 
veniently  disposed  that  it  seemed  almost  inevitable 
for  him  to  stumble  over  them  at  every  step ;  besides 
which,  he  seemed  to  tread  upon  his  ankles,  and  moved 
with  a  disjointed  gait,  as  if  each  of  his  legs  and  thighs 
had  been  twisted  round  together  with  his  feet.  Never 
theless,  he  had  a  bright,  cheerful,  intelligent  face,  and 
was  exceedingly  active,  keeping  up  with  the  horses  at 
their  trot,  and  inciting  them  to  better  speed  when 
they  lagged.  I  conceived  a  great  respect  for  this  poor 
bo  y,  who  had  what  most  Italian  peasants  would  con 
sider  an  enviable  birthright  in  those  two  club  feet,  as 
giving  him  a  sufficient  excuse  to  live  on  charity,  but 
yet  took  no  advantage  of  them ;  on  the  contrary, 
putting  his  poor  misshapen  hoofs  to  such  good  use,  as 
might  have  shamed  many  a  better  provided  biped. 
When  he  quitted  us,  he  asked  no  alms  of  the  travel 
lers,  but  merely  applied  to  Gaetano  for  some  slight 
recompense  for  his  well-performed  service.  This 
behavior  contrasted  most  favorably  with  that  of  some 
other  boys  and  girls,  who  ran  begging  beside  the  car 
riage  door,  keeping  up  a  low,  miserable  murmur,  like 

VOL.  I.  11  p 


242  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

that  of  a  kennel-stream,  for  a  long,  long  way.  feeggars, 
indeed,  started  up  at  every  point,  when  we  stopped  for 
a  moment,  and  whenever  a  hill  imposed  a  slower  pace 
upon  us ;  each  village  had  his  deformity  or  its  infirm 
ity,  offering  his  wretched  petition  at  the  step  of  the 
carriage ;  and  even  a  venerable,  white-headed  patri 
arch,  the  grandfather  of  all  the  beggars,  seemed  to 
grow  up  by  the  roadside,  but  was  left  behind  from 
inability  to  join  in  the  race  with  his  light-footed 
juniors.  No  shame  is  attached  to  begging  in  Italy. 
In  fact,  I  rather  imagine  it  to  be  held  an  honorable 
profession,  inheriting  some  of  the  odor  of  sanctity  that 
used  to  be  attached  to  a  mendicant  and  idle  life  in  the 
days  of  early  Christianity,  when  every  saint  lived  upon 
Providence,  and  deemed  it  meritorious  to  do  nothing 
for  his  support. 

Murray's  guide-book  is  exceedingly  vague  and  un 
satisfactory  along  this  route ;  and  whenever  we  asked 
Gaetano  the  name  of  a  village  or  a  castle,  he  gave 
some  one  whi^h  we  had  never  heard  before,  and  could 
find  nothing  of  in  the  book.  We  made  out  the  river 
Nar,  however,  or  what  I  supposed  to  be  such,  though 
he  called  it  Nera.  It  flows  through  a  most  stupendous 
mountain-gorge ;  winding  its  narrow  passage  between 
high-  hills,  the  broad  sides  of  which  descend  steeply 
upon  it,  covered  with  trees  and  shrubbery,  that  man 
tle  a  host  of  rocky  roughnesses,  and  make  all  look 
smooth.  Here  and  there  a  precipice  juts  sternly 
forth.  We  saw  an  old  castle  on  a  lull  side,  frowning 
down  into  the  gorge ;  and  farther  on,  the  gray  tower 
of  Narni  stands  upon  a  height,  imminent  over  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  243 

depths  below,  and  with  its  battlemented  castle  above 
now  converted  into  a  prison,  and  therefore  kept 
in  excellent  repair.  A  long  winding  street  passes 
through  Narni,  broadening  at  one  point  into  a  mar 
ket-place,  where  an  old  cathedral  showed  its  venera 
ble  front,  and  the  great  dial  of  its  clock,  the  figures 
on  which  were  numbered  in  two  semicircles  of  twelve 
points  each ;  one,  I  suppose,  for  noon,  and  the  other 
for  midnight.  The  town  has,  so-  far  as  its  principal 
street  is  concerned,  a  city  like  aspect,  with  large,  fair 
edifices,  and  shops  as  good  as  most  of  those  at  Rome, 
the  smartness  of  which  contrasts  strikingly  with  the 
rude  and  lonely  scenery  of  mountain  and  stream, 
through  which  we  had  come  to  reach  it.  We  drove 
through  Narni  without  stopping,  and  came  out  from 
it  on  the  other  side,  where  a  broad,  level  valley  opened 
before  us,  most  unlike  the  wild,  precipitous  gorge 
which  had  brought  us  to  the  town.  The  road  went 
winding  down  into  the  peaceful  vale,  through  the 
midst  of  which  flowed  the  same  stream  that  cuts  its 
way  between  the  impending  hills,  as  already  described. 
We  passed  a  monk  and  a  soldier,  —  the  two  curses  of 
Italy,  each  in  his  way,  —  walking  sociably  side  by 
side ;  and  from  Narni  to  Terni  I  remember  nothing 
that  need  be  recorded. 

Terni,  like  so  many  other  towns  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  stands  in  a  high  and  commanding  position. 
chosen  doubtless  for  its  facilities  of  defence,  in  days 
long  before  the  mediaeval  warfares  of  Italy  made  such 
sites  desirable.  I  siippose  that,  like  Narni  and 
Otricoli,  it  was  a  city  of  the  Umbrians.  We  reachod 


244  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

it  between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock,  intending 
to  employ  the  afternoon  on  a  visit  to  the  famous 
falls  of  Terni ;  but,  after  lowering  all  day,  it  has 
begun  to  rain,  and  we  shall  probably  have  to  give 
them  up. 

Half  past  eight  o'clock.  —  It  has  rained  in  torrents 
during  the  afternoon,  and  we  have  not  seen  the 
cascade  of  Terni ;  considerably  to  my  regret,  for  I 
think  I  felt  the  more  interest  in  seeing  it,  on  account 
of  its  being  artificial.  Methinks  nothing  was  more 
characteristic  of  the  energy  and  determination  of  the 
old  Romans,  than  thus  to  take  a  river,  which  they 
wished  to  be  rid  of,  and  fling  it  over  a  giddy  precipice, 

breaking  it  into  ten  million  pieces  by  the  fall 

We  are  in  the  Hotel  delle  tre  Colonne,  and  find  it 
reasonably  good,  though  not,  so  far  as  we  are  con 
cerned,  justifying  the  rapturous  commendations  of 
previous  tourists,  who  probably  travelled  at  their 
own  charges.  However,  there  is  nothing  really  to  be 
complained  of,  either  in  our  accommodations  or  table, 
and  the  only  wonder  is  how  Gaetano  contrives  to  get 
any  profit  out  of  our  contract,  since  the  hotel  bills 
would  alone  cost  us  more  than  we  pay  him.  for  the 
journey  and  all.  It  is  worth  while  to  record  as  history 
of  vctturino  commissary  customs,  that  for  breakfast 
this  morning  we  had  coffee,  eggs,  and  bread  and 
butter ;  for  lunch  an  omelette,  some  stewed  veal,  and 
a  dessert  of  figs  and  grapes,  besides  two  decanters  of 
a  light-colored  acid  wine,  tasting  very  like  indiffer 
ent  cider ;  for  dinner,  an  excellent  vermicelli  soup, 
two  young  fowls,  fricasseed,  and  a  hind  quarter  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  245 

roast  lamb,  with  fritters,  oranges  and  figs,  and  two 
more  decanters  of  the  wine  aforesaid. 

This  hotel  is  an  edifice  with  a  gloomy  front  upon  a 
narrow  street,  and  enterable  through  an  arch,  which 
admits  you  into  an  enclosed  court ;  around  the  court, 
on  each  story,  run  the  galleries,  with  which  the  par 
lors  and  sleeping  -  apartments  communicate.  The 
whole  house  is  dingy,  probably  old,  and  seems  not 
very  clean  ;  but  yet  bears  traces  of  former  magnifi 
cence  ;  for  instance,  in  our  bedroom,  the  door  of 
which  is  ornamented  with  gilding,  and  the  cornices 
with  frescos,  some  of  which  appear  to  represent  the 
cascade  of  Terni,  the  roof  is  crossed  with  carved 
beams,  and  is  painted  in  the  interstices ;  the  floor  has 
a  carpet,  but  rough  tiles  underneath  it,  which  show 
themselves  at  the  margin.  The  windows  admit  the 
wind ;  the  door  shuts  so  loosely  as  to  leave  great 
cracks ;  and,  during  the  rain  to-day,  there  was  a 
heavy  shower  through  our  ceiling,  which  made  a  flood 
upon  the  carpet.  We  see  no  chambermaids ;  noth 
ing  of  the  comfort  and  neatness  of  an  English  hotel, 
nor  of  the  smart  splendors  of  an.  American  one  ;  but 
still  this  dilapidated  palace  affords  us  a  better  shelter 
than  I  expected  to  find  in  the  decayed  country  towns 
of  Italy.  In  the  album  of  the  hotel,  I  find  the  names 
of  more  English  travellers  than  of  any  other  nation 
except  the  Americans,  who,  I  think,  even  exceed  the 
former ;  and,  the  route  being  the  favorite  one  for 
tourists  between  Rome  and  Florence,  whatever  merit 
the  inns  have  is  probably  owing  to  the  demands  of 
the  Anglo-Saxons  I  doubt  not,  if  we  chose  to  pay 


246  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

for  it,  this  hotel  would  supply  us  with  any  luxury  we 
might  ask  for ;  and  perhaps  even  a  gorgeous  saloon 
and  state  bedchamber. 

After  dinner,  J and  I  walked  out  in  the  dusk 

to  see  what  we  could  of  Term.  We  found  it  compact 
and  gloomy  (but  the  latter  characteristic  might  well 
enough  be  attributed  to  the  dismal  sky),  with  narrow 
streets,  paved  from  wall  to  wall  of  the  houses,  like 
those  of  all  the  towns  in  Italy;  the  blocks  of  paving- 
stone  larger  than  the  little  square  torments  of  Rome. 
The  houses  are  covered  with  dingy  stucco,  and  mostly 
low,  compared  with  those  of  Rome,  and  inhospitable 
as  regards  their  dismal  aspects  and  uninviting  door 
ways.  The  streets  are  intricate,  as  well  as  narrow ; 
insomuch  that  we  quickly  lost  our  way,  and  could  not 
find  it  again,  though  the  town  is  of  so  small  dimen 
sions,  that  we  passed  through  it  in  two  directions, 
in  the  course  of  our  brief  wanderings.  There  are  no 
lamp-posts  in  Terni ;  and  as  it  was  growing  dark, 
and  beginning  to  rain  again,  we  at  last  inquired  of  a 
person  in  the  principal  piazza,  and  found  our  hotel, 
as  I  expected,  within  two  minutes'  walk  of  where  we 
stood. 

FOL1GNO. 

May  2btk.  — At  six  o'clock  this  morning,  we  packed 
ourselves  into  our  vetturo,  my  wife  and  I  occupying 
the  coup6,  and  drove  out  of  the  city  gate  of  Tcrni. 
There  are  some  old  towers  near  it,  ruins  of  I  know 
not  what,  and  care  as  little,  in  the  plethora  of  antiq 
uities  and  other  interesting  objects.  Through  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  247 

arched  gateway,  as  we  approached,  we  had  a  view  of 
one  of  the  great  hills  that  surround  the  town,  looking 
partly  bright  in  the  early  sunshine,  and  partly  catch 
ing  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  that  floated  about  the 
sky.  Our  way  was  now  through  the  Vale  of  Terni,  as 
I  believe  it  is  called,  where  we  saw  somewhat  of  the 
fertility  of  Italy :  vines  trained  on  poles,  or  twining 
round  mulberry  and  other  trees,  ranged  regularly 
like  orchards;  groves  of  olives  and  fields  of  grain. 
There  are  interminable  shrines  in  all  sorts  of  situa 
tions  ;  some  under  arched  niches,  or  little  pent  - 
houses,  with  a  brick-tiled  roof,  just  large  enough  to 
cover  them ;  or  perhaps  in  some  bit  of  old  Roman 
masonry,  on  the  wall  of  a  wayside  inn,  or  in  a  shallow 
cavity  of  the  natural  rock,  or  high  upward  in  the 
deep  cuts  of  the  road ;  everywhere,  in  short,  so  that 
nobody  need  be  at  a  loss  when  he  feels  the  religious 
sentiment  stir  within  him.  Our  way  soon  began  to 
wind  among  the  hills,  which  rose  steep  and  lofty  from 
the  scanty,  level  space  that  lay  between ;  they  con 
tinually  thrust  themselves  across  the  passage,  and 
appeared  as  if  determined  to  shut  us  completely  in. 
A  great  hill  would  put  its  foot  right  before  us ;  but, 
at  the  last  moment,  would  grudgingly  withdraw  it, 
and  allow  us  just  room  enough  to  creep  by.  Adown 
their  sides  we  discerned  the  dry  beds  of  mountain 
torrents,  which  had  lived  too  fierce  a  life  to  let  it  be  a 
long  one.  On  here  and  there  a  hillside  or  promon 
tory,  we  saw  a  ruined  castle  or  a  convent,  looking 
from  its  commanding 'height  upon  the  road,  which 
very  likely  some  robber-knight  had  formerly  infested 


24B  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1888. 

with  his  banditti,  retreating  with  his  booty  to  the 
security  of  such  strongholds.  We  came,  once  in  a 
while,  to  wretched  villages,  where  there  was  no  token 
of  prosperity  or  comfort ;  but  perhaps  there  may  have 
been  more  than  we  could  appreciate,  for  the  Italians 
do  not  seem  to  have  any  of  that  sort  of  pride  which 
we  find  in  New  England  villages,  where  every  man, 
according  to  his  taste  and  means,  endeavors  to  make 
his  homestead  an  ornament  to  the  place.  We  miss 
nothing  in  Italy  more  than  the  neat  door-steps  and 
pleasant  porches  and  thresholds  and  delightful  lawns 
or  grass-plots,  which  hospitably  invite  the  imagination 
into  a  sweet  domestic  interior.  Everything,  however 
sunny  and  luxuriant  may  be  the  scene  around,  is 
especially  dreary  and  disheartening  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  an  Italian  home. 

At  Strettura  (which,  as  the  name  indicates,  is  a 
very  narrow  part  of  the  valley)  we  added  two  oxen  to 
our  horses,  and  began  to  ascend  the  Monte  Somma, 
which,  according  to  Murray,  is  nearly  four  thousand 
feet  high,  where  we  crossed  it.  When  we  came  to 
the  steepest  part  of  the  ascent,  Gaetano,  who  exercises 
a  pretty  decided  control  over  his  passengers,  allowed 
us  to  walk ;  and  we  all,  with  one  exception,  alighted, 
and  began  to  climb  the  mountain  on  foot.  I  walked 
on  briskly,  and  soon  left  the  rest  of  the  party  behind, 
reaching  the  top  of  the  pass  in  such  a  short  time  that 
I  could  not  believe  it,  and  kept  onward,  expecting  still 
another  height  to  climb.  But  the  road  began  to 
descend,  winding  among  the  depths  of  the  hills  as 
heretofore ;  now  beside  the  dry,  gravelly  bed  of  a 


1858.]  ITALY.  249 

departed  stream,  now  crossing  it  by  a  bridge,  and 
perhaps  passing  through  some  other  gorge,  that  yet 
gave  no  decided  promise  of  an  outlet  into  the  world 
beyond.  A  glimpse  might  occasionally  be  caught, 
through  a  gap  between  the  hill-tops,  of  a  company  of 
distant  mountain  peaks,  pyramidal,  as  these  hills  are 
apt  to  be,  and  resembling  the  camp  of  an  army  of 
giants.  The  landscape  was  not  altogether  savage ; 
sometimes  a  hillside  was  covered  with  a  rich  field  of 
grain,  or  an  orchard  of  olive-trees,  looking  not  unlike 
puffs  of  smoke,  from  the  peculiar  hue  of  their  foliage  ; 
but  oftener  there  was  a  vast  mantle  of  trees  and 
shrubbery  from  top  to  bottom,  the  golden  tufts  of 
the  broom  shining  out  amid  the  verdure,  and  glad 
dening  the  whole.  Nothing  was  dismal  except  the 
houses ;  those  were  always  so,  whether  the  compact, 
gray  lines  of  village  hovels,  with  a  narrow  street 
between,  or  the  lonely  farm-house,  standing  far  apart 
frorn^  the  road,  built  of  stone,  with  window-gaps  high 
in  the  wall,  empty  of  glass ;  or  the  half-castle,  half- 
dwelling,  of  which  I  saw  a  specimen  or  two,  with 
what  looked  like  a  defensive  rampart,  drawn  around 
its  court.  I  saw  no  look  of  comfort  anywhere ;  and 
continually,  in  this  wild  and  solitary  region,  I  met 
beggars,  just  as  if  I  were  still  in  the  streets  of  Home. 
Boys  and  girls  kept  beside  me,  till  they  delivered  mo 
into  the  hands  of  others  like  themselves  ;  hoary  grand- 
sires  and  grandmothers  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  ap 
proach,  and  tottered  as  fast  as  they  could  to  intercept 
me ;  women  came  out  of  the  cottages,  with  rotten 
Oherries  on  a  plate,  entreating  me  to  buy  them  for  a 
11* 


250  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

mezzo  baioccho  ;  a  man,  at  work  on  the  road,  left  his 
toil  to  beg,  and  was  grateful  for  the  value  cf  a  cent ; 
in  short,  I  was  never  safe  from  importunity,  as  long 
as  there  was  a  house  or  a  human  being  in  sight. 

We  arrived  at  Spoleto  before  noon,  and  while  our 
dejeuner  was  being  prepared,  looked  down  from  the 
window  of  the  inn  into  the  narrow  street  beneath, 
which,  from  the  throng  of  people  in  it,  I  judged  to 
be  the  principal  one  :  priests,  papal   soldiers,  women 
with  no  bonnets  on  their  heads ;  peasants  in  breeches 
and    mushroom  hats;    maids    and    matrons,   drawing 
water    at    a   fountain ;    idlers,    smoking   on    a   bench 
under  the  window ;  a  talk,  a  bustle,  but  no  genuine 
activity.     After  lunch  we  walked  out  to  see  the  lions 
of  Spoleto,  and  found  our  way  up  a  steep  and  narrow 
street   that  led  us  to  the  city  gate,  at  which,   it  is 
traditionally  said,   Hannibal    sought    to    force  an  en 
trance,    after    the    battle    of    Thrasymene,    and   was 
repulsed.     The  gateway  has  a  double   arch,  on   the 
inner  one  of  which  is  a  tablet,  recording  the  a*bove 
tradition  as  an  unquestioned   historical    fact.     From 
the   gateway  we  went    in   search    of  the    Duomo   or 
Cathedral,  and  were    kindly  directed   thither   by  an 
officer,  who  was  descending  into  the  town  from  the 
citadel,  which  is  an  old  castle,  now  converted  into  a 
prison.     The  Cathedral,    seemed    small,   and    did   not 
much  interest  us,  either  by  the  Gothic  front  or  its 
modernized  interior.     We  saw  nothing  else  in  Spoleto, 
but  went  back  to  the  inn  and  resumed  our  journey, 
emerging  from  the  city  into  the  classic  valley  of  the 
Clitumnus,  which  we  did  not  view  under  the  best  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  251 

auspices,  because  it  was  overcast,  and  the  wind  as 
chill  as  if  it  had  the  east  in  it.  The  valley,  though 
fertile,  and  smilingly  picturesque,  perhaps,  is  not  such 
as  I  should  wish  to  celebrate,  either  in  prose  or 
poetry.  It  is  of  such  breadth  and  extent,  that  its 
frame  of  mountains  and  ridgy  hills  hardly  serve  to 
shut  it  in  sufficiently,  and  the  spectator  thinks  of  a 
boundless  plain,  rather  than  of  a  secluded  vale. 
After  passing  Le  Vene,  we  came  to  the  little  temple 
which  Byron  describes,  and  which  has  been  supposed 
to  be  the  one  immortalized  by  Pliny.  It  is  very 
small,  and  stands  on  a  declivity  that  falls  immediately 
from  the  road,  right  upon  which  rises  the  pediment 
of  the  temple,  while  the  columns  of  the  other  front 
find  sufficient  height  to  develop  themselves  in  the 
lower  ground.  A  little  farther  down  than  the  base 
of  the  edifice  we  saw  the  Clitumnus,  so  recently  from 
its  source  in  the  marble  rock,  that  it  was  still  as  pure 
as  a  child's  heart,  and  as  transparent  as  truth  itself. 
It  looked  airier  than  nothing,  because  it  had  not  sub 
stance  enough  to  brighten,  and  it  was  clearer  than  the 
atmosphere.  I  remember  nothing  else  of  the  valley 
of  Clitumnus,  except  that  the  beggars  in  this  region 
of  proverbial  fertility  are  wellnigh  profane  in  the 
urgency  ot  their  petitions ;  they  absolutely  fall  down 
on  their  knees  as  you  approach,  in  the  same  attitude 
as  if  they  were  praying  to  their  Maker,  and  beseech 
you  for  alms  with  a  fervency  which  I  am  afraid  they 
seldom  use  before  an  altar  or  shrine.  Being  denied, 
they  ran  hastily  beside  the  carriage,  but  got  nothing, 
and  finally  gave  over. 


252  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

I  am  so  very  tired  and  sleepy  that  I  mean  to  men 
tion  nothing  else  to-night,  except  the  city  of  Trevi, 
which,  on  the  approach  from  Spoleto,  seems  completely 
to  cover  a  high,  peaked  hill,  from  its  pyramidal  tip 
to  its  base.  It  was  the  strangest  situation  in  which 
to  build  a  town,  where,  I  should  suppose,  no  horso 
can  climb,  and  whence  no  inhabitant  would  think  of 
descending  into  the  world,  after  the  approach  of  age 
should  begin  to  stiffen  his  joints.  On  looking  back  on. 
this  most  picturesque  of  towns  (which  the  road,  of 
course,  did  not  enter,  as  evidently  no  road  could),  I 
saw  that  the  highest  part  of  the  hill  was  quite  covered 
with  a  crown  of  edifices,  terminating  in  a  church 
tower ;  while  a  part  of  the  northern  side  was  appar 
ently  too  steep  for  building ;  and  a  cataract  of  houses 
flowed  down  the  western  and  southern  slopes.  There 
seemed  to  be  palaces,  churches,  everything  that  a  city 
should  have ;  but  my  eyes  are  heavy,  and  I  can  write 
no  more  about  them,  only  that  I  suppose  the  summit 
of  the  hill  was  artificially  tenured,  so  as  to  prevent  its 
crumbling  down,  and  enable  it  to  support  the  platform 
of  edifices  which  crowns  it. 

May  27th.  —  We  reached  Foligno  in  good  season 
yesterday  afternoon.  Our  inn  seemed  ancient ;  and, 
under  the  same  roof,  on  one  side  of  the  entrance,  was 
the  stable,  and  on  the  other  the  coach-house.  Tho 
house  is  built  round  a  narrow  court,  with  a  well  of 
water  at  bottom,  and  an  opening  in  the  roof  at  top, 
whence  the  staircases  are  lighted  that  wind  round  the 
sides  of  the  court,  up  to  the  highest  story.  Our  din 
ing-room  and  bedrooms  were  in  the  latter  region,  and 


J858.]  ITALY.  253 

were  all  paved  with  brick,  and  without  carpets ;  and 
the  characteristic  of  the  whole  was  an  exceeding  plain 
ness  and  antique  clumsiness  of  fitting  up.  We  found 
ourselves  sufficiently  comfortable,  however ;  and,  as 
has  been  the  case  throughout  our  journey,  had  a  very 
fair  and  well-cooked  dinner.  It  shows,  as  perhaps  I 
have  already  remarked,  that  it  is  still  possible  to  live 
well  in  Italy,  at  no  great  expense,  and  that  the  high 
prices  charged  to  the  forestieri  at  Rome  and  elsewhere 
are  artificial,  and  ought  to  be  abated 

The  day  had  darkened  since  morning,  and  was  now- 
ominous  of  rain  j  but  as  soon  as  we  were  established, 
we  sallied  out  to  see  whatever  was  worth  looking  at. 
A  beggar  boy,  with  one  leg,  followed  us,  without  ask 
ing  for  anything,  apparently  only  for  the  pleasure  of 
our  company,  though  he  kept  at  too  great  a  distance 
for  conversation,  and  indeed  did  not  attempt  to  speak. 

We  went  first  to  the  Cathedral,  which  has  a  Gothic 
front,  and  a  modernized  interior,  stuccoed  and  white 
washed,  looking  as  neat  as  a  New  England  meeting 
house,  and  very  mean,  after  our  familiarity  with  tho 
gorgeous  churches  in  other  cities.  There  were  some 
pictures  in  the  chapels,  but,  I  believe,  all  modern, 
and  I  do  not  remember  a  single  one  of  them.  Next 
we  went,  without  any  guide,  to  a  church  attached  to  a 
convent  of  Dominican  monks,  with  a  Gothic  exterior, 
and  two  hideous  pictures  of  Death,  —  the  skeleton  lean 
ing  on  his  scythe,  one  on  each  side  of  the  door.  This 
church,  likewise,  was  whitewashed,  but  we  understood 
that  it  had  been  originally  frescoed  all  over,  and  by 
famous  hands;  but  these  pictures,  having  become 


254  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

much  injured,  they  were  all  obliterated,  as  we  saw,  — 
all,  that  is  to  say,  except  a  few  specimens  of  the  best 
preserved,  which  were  spared  to  show  the  world  what 
the  whole  had  been.  I  thanked  my  stars  that  the 
obliteration  of  the  rest  had  taken  place  before  our 
visit ;  for  if  anything  is  dreary  and  calculated  to  make 
the  beholder  utterly  miserable,  it  is  a  faded  fresco, 
with  spots  of  the  white  plaster  dotted  over  it. 

Our  one-legged  boy  had  followed  us  into  the  church 
and  stood  near  the  door  till  he  saw  us  ready  to  come 
out,  when  he  hurried  on  before  us,  and  waited  a  little 
way  off  to  see  whither  we  should  go.  We  still  went 
on  at  random,  taking  the  first  turn  that  offered  itself 
and  soon  came  to  another  old  church,  —  that  of  St. 
Mary  within  the  Walls,  —  into  which  we  entered,  and 
found  it  whitewashed,  like  the  other  two.  This  was 
especially  fortunate,  for  the  doorkeeper  informed  us 
that,  two  years  ago,  the  whole  church  (except,  I  sup 
pose,  the  roof,  which  is  of  timber)  had  been  covered 
with  frescos  by  Pinturicchio,  all  of  which  had  been 
ruthlessly  obliterated,  except  a  very  few  fragments. 
These  he  proceeded  to  show  us ;  poor,  dim  ghosts  of 
what  may  once  have  been  beautiful,  — now  so  far  gone 
towards  nothingness  that  I  was  hardly  sure  whether 
I  saw  a  glimmering  of  the  design  or  not.  By  the  by, 
it  was  not  Pinturicchio,  as  I  have  written  above,  but 
Giotto,  assisted,  I  believe,  by  Cimabue,  who  painted 
these  frescos.  Our  one-legged  attendant  had  fol 
lowed  us  also  into  this  church,  and  again  hastened 
out  of  it  before  us ;  and  still  we  heard  the  dot  of  his 
crutch  upon  the  pavement,  as  we  passed  from  street 


1858.]       .  .  ITALY.  255 

to  street.  By  and  by  a  sickly-looking  man  met  us, 
and  begged  for  "  qualche  co^a  "  ;  but  the  boy  shouted 
to  him  "  Niente  ! "  whether  intimating  that  we  would 
give  him  nothing,  or  that  he  himself  had  a  prior  claim 
to  all  our  charity,  I  cannot  tell.  However,  the  beg 
gar  man  turned  round,  and  likewise  followed  our  devi 
ous  course.  Once  or  twice  we  missed  him ;  but  it  was 
only  because  he  could  not  walk  so  fast  as  we  ;  for  he 
appeared  again  as  we  emerged  from  the  door  of  an 
other  church.  Our  one-legged  friend  we  never  missed 
for  a  moment ;  he  kept  pretty  near  us,  —  near  enough 
to  be  amused  by  our  indecision  whither  to  go ;  and  he 
seemed  much  delighted  when  it  began  to  rain,  and  he 
saw  us  at  a  loss  how  to  find  our  way  back  to  the  hotel. 
Nevertheless,  he  did  not  offer  to  guide  us ;  but 
stumped  on  behind  with  a  faster  or  slower  dot  of  his 
crutch,  according  to  our  pace.  I  began  to  think  that 
he  must  have  been  engaged  as  a  spy  upon  our  move 
ments  by  the  police  who  had  taken  away  my  pass 
port  at  the  city  gate.  In  this  way  he  attended  us  to 
the  door  of  the  hotel,  where  the  beggar  had  already 
arrived.  The  latter  again  put  in  his  doleful  petition ; 
the  one-legged  boy  said  not  a  word,  nor  seemed  to  ex 
pect  anything,  and  both  had  to  go  away  without  so 
much  as  a  mezzo  baioccho  out  of  our  pockets.  The 
multitude  of  beggars  in  Italy  makes  the  heart  as  obdu 
rate  as  a  paving-stone. 

We  left  Foligno  this  morning,  and,  all  ready  for  us 
at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  as  we  got  into  the  carriage, 
were  our  friends,  the  beggar  man  and  the  one-legged 
boy  •  the  latter  holding  out  his  ragged  hat,  and  smil- 


256  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ing  with  as  confident  an  air  as  if  he  had  done  us  some 
very  particular  service,  and  were  certain  of  being  paid 
for  it,  as  from  contract.  It  was  so  very  funny,  so  im 
pudent,  so  utterly  absurd,  that  I  could  not  help  giv 
ing  him  a  trifle  ;  but  the  man  got  nothing,  —  a  fact 
that  gives  me  a  twinge  or  two,  for  he  looked  sickly  and 
miserable.  But  where  everybody  begs,  everybody,  as 
a  general  rule,  must  be  denied ;  and,  besides,  they  act 
their  misery  so  well  that  you  are  never  sure  of  the 
genuine  article. 

PEEUGIA. 

May  28th.  —  As  I  said  last  night,  we  left  Foligno 
betimes  in  the  morning,  which  was  bleak,  chill,  and 
very  threatening,  there  being  very  little  blue  sky 
anywhere,  and  the  clouds  lying  heavily  on  some  of 
the  mountain-ridges.  The  wind  blew  sharply  right  in 

U 's  face  and  mine,  as  we  occupied  the  coup6,  so 

that  there  must  have  been  a  great  deal  of  the  north 
iu  it.  We  drove  through  a  wide  plain  —  the  Um- 
brian  valley,  I  suppose  —  and  soon  passed  the  old 
town  of  Spello,  just  touching  its  skirts,  and  wondering 
how  people,  who  had  this  rich  and  convenient  plain 
from  which  to  choose  a  site,  could  think  of  covering 
a  huge  island  of  rock  with  their  dwellings,  — for  Spello 
tumbled  its  crooked  and  narrow  streets  down  a  steep 
descent,  and  cannot  well  have  a  yard  of  even  space 
within  its  walls.  It  is  said  to  contain  some  rare 
treasures  of  ancient  pictorial  art. 

I  do  not  remember  much  that  we  saw  on  our  route. 
The  plains  and  the  lower  hillsides  seemed  fruitful 


1858.]  ITALY.  257 

of  everything  that  belongs  to  Italy,  especially  the 
olive  and  the  vine.  As  usual,  there  were  a  great 
many  shrines,  and  frequently  a  cross  by  the  wayside. 
Hitherto  it  had  been  merely  a  plain  wooden  cross ; 
but  now  almost  every  cross  was  hung  with  various 
instruments,  represented  in  wood,  apparently  symbols 
of  the  crucifixion  of  our  Saviour,  —  the  spear,  the 
sponge,  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  hammer,  a  pair  of 
pincers,  and  always  St.  Peter's  cock,  made  a  promi 
nent  figure,  generally  perched  on  the  summit  of  the 
cross. 

From  our  first  start  this  morning  we  had  seen 
mists  in  various  quarters,  betokening  that  there  was 
rain  in  those  spots,  and  now  it  began  to  spatter  in 
our  own  faces,  although  within  the  wide  extent  of  our 
prospect  we  could  see  the  sunshine  falling  011  por 
tions  of  the  valley.  A  rainbow,  too,  shone  out,  and 
remained  so  long  visible  that  it  appeared  to  have 
made  a  permanent  stain  in  the  sky. 

By  and  by  we  reached  Assisi,  which  is  magnifi 
cently  situated  for  pictorial  purposes,  with  a  gray 
castle  above  it,  and  a  gray  wall  around  it,  itself  on  a 
mountain,  and  looking  over  the  great  plain  which  we 
had  been  traversing,  and  through  which  lay  our  on 
ward  way.  We  drove  through  the  Piazza  Grande 
to  an  ancient  house  a  little  beyond,  where  a  hos 
pitable  old  lady  receives  travellers  for  a  consideration, 
without  exactly  keeping  an  inn. 

In  the  piazza  we  saw  the  beautiful  front  of  a  temple 
of  Minerva,  consisting  of  several  marble  pillars,  fluted, 
and  with  rich  capitals  supporting  a  pediment.  It  was 

Q 


258  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

as  fine  as  anything  I  had  seen  at  Rome,  and  is  now, 
of  course,  converted  into  a  Catholic  church. 

I  ought  to  have  said  that,  instead  of  driving 
straight  to  the  old  lady's,  \ve  alighted  at  the  door 
of  a  church  near  the  city  gate,  and  went  in  to  inspect 
some  melancholy  frescos,  and  thence  clambered  up 
a  narrow  street  to  the  Cathedral,  which  has  a  Gothic 
front,  old  enough,  but  not  very  impressive.  I  really 
remember  not  a  single  object  that  we  saw  within, 
but  am  pretty  certain  that  the  interior  had  been 
stuccoed  and  whitewashed.  The  ecclesiastics  of  old 
time  did  an  excellent  thing  in  covering  the  interiors 
of  their  churches  with  brilliant  frescos,  thus  filling 
the  holy  places  with  saints  and  angels,  and  almost 
with  the  presence  of  the  Divinity.  The  modern  eccle 
siastics  do  the  next  best  thing  in  obliterating  the 
wretched  remnants  of  what  has  had  its  day  and  done 
its  dffice.  These  frescos  might  be  looked  upon  as 
the  symbol  of  the  living  spirit  that  made  Cathol 
icism  a  true  religion,  and  glorified  it  as  long  as  it  did 
live  ;  now  the  glory  and  beauty  have  departed  from 
one  and  the  other. 

My  wife,  U ,  and  Miss  Shepard  now  set  out 

with  a  cicerone  to  visit  the  great  Franciscan  convent, 
in  the  church  of  which  are  preserved  some  miracu 
lous  specimens,  in  fresco  and  in  oils,  of  early  Italian 
art ;  but  as  I  had  no  mind  to  suffer  any  further  in 

this  way,  I  stayed  behind  with  J and  It , 

who  were  equally  weary  of  these  things. 

After  they  were  gone  we  took  a  ramble  through 
the  city,  but  were  almost  swept  away  by  the  violence 


1858.]  ITALY.  259 

of  the  wind,  which  struggled  with  me  for  my  hat,  and 

whirled  R before  it  like  a  feather.     The  people 

in  the  public  square  seemed  much  diverted  at  our 
predicament,  being,  I  suppose,  accustomed  to  these 
rude  blasts  in  their  mountain-home.  However,  the 
wind  blew  in  momentary  gusts,  and  then  became 
more  placable  till  another  fit  of  fury  came,  and 
passed  as  suddenly  as  before.  We  walked  out  of 
the  same  gate  through  which  we  had  entered,  —  an 
ancient  gate,  but  recently  stuccoed  and  whitewashed, 
in  wretched  contrast  to  the  gray,  venerable  wall 
through  which  it  affords  ingress,  —  and  I  stood  gazing 
at  the  magnificent  prospect  of  the  wide  valley  be 
neath.  It  was  so  vast  that  there  appeared  to  be  all 
varieties  of  weather  in  it  at  the  same  instant ;  fields 
of  sunshine,  tracts  of  storm,  —  here  the  coming  tem 
pest,  there  the  departing  one.  It  was  a  picture  of 
the  world  on  a  vast  canvas,  for  there  was  rural  life 
and  city  life  within  the  great  expanse,  and  the  whole 
set  in  a  frame  of  mountains,  —  the  nearest  bold  and 
distinct,  with  the  rocky  ledges  showing  through  their 
sides,  the  distant  ones  blue  and  dim,  —  so  far  stretched 
this  broad  valley. 

When  I  had  looked  long  enough,  —  no,  not  long 
enough,  for  it  would  take  a  great  while  to  read  that 
page,  —  we  returned  within  the  gate,  and  we  clam 
bered  up,  past  the  Cathedral  and  into  the  narrow 
streets  above  it.  The  aspect  of  everything  was 
immeasurably  old;  a  thousand  years  would  be  but 
a  middle  age  for  one  ot  those  houses,  built  so  mas 
sively  with  huge  stones  and  solid  arches,  that  I  do 


260  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

not  see  how  they  are  ever  to  tumble  down,  or  to  be 
less  fit  for  human  habitation  than  they  are  now.  The 
streets  crept  between  them,  and  beneath  arched  pas 
sages,  and  up  and  down  steps  of  stone  or  ancient 
brick,  for  it  would  be  altogether  impossible  for  a 
carriage  to  ascend  above  the  Grand  Piazza,  though 
possibly  a  donkey  or  a  chairman's  mule  might  find 
foothold.  The  city  seems  like  a  stony  growth  out 
of  the  hillside,  or  a  fossilized  city,  - —  so  old  and  singu 
lar  it  is,  without  enough  life  and  juiciness  in  it  to 
be  susceptible  of  decay.  An  earthquake  is  the  only 
chance  of  its  ever  being  ruined,  beyond  its  present 
ruin.  Nothing  is  more  strange  than  to  think  that 
this  now  dead  city  —  dead,  as  regards  the  purposes 
for  which  men  live  nowadays  —  was,  centuries  ago, 
the  seat  and  birthplace  almost  of  art,  the  only  art 
in  which  the  beautiful  part  of  the  human  mind  then 
developed  itself.  How  came  that  flower  to  grow 
among  these  wild  mountains'?  I  do  not  conceive, 
however,  that  the  people  of  Assisi  were  ever  much 
more  enlightened  or  cultivated  on  the  side  of  art 
than  they  are  at  present.  The  ecclesiastics  were 
then  the  only  patrons ;  and  the  flower  grew  here 
because  there  was  a  great  ecclesiastical  garden  in 
which  it  was  sheltered  and  fostered.  But  it  is<  very 
curious  to  think  of  Assisi,  a  school  of  art  within,  and 
mountain  and  wilderness  without. 

My  wife  and  the  rest  of  the  party  returned  from 
the  convent  before  noon,  delighted  with  what  they 
had  seen,  as  I  was  delighted  not  to  have  seen  it. 
We  ate  our  dyeuner,  and  resumed  our  journey, 


1858.]  ITALY.  261 

passing  beneath  the  great  convent,  after  emerging 
from  the  gate  opposite  to  that  of  our  entrance.  The 
edifice  made  a  very  good  spectacle,  being  of  great 
extent,  and  standing  on  a  double  row  of  high  and 
narrow  arches,  on  which  it  is  built  up  from  the  de 
clivity  of  the  hill. 

We  soon  reached  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  of  the 
Angels,  which  is  a  modern  structure,  and  very 
spacious,  built  in  place  of  one  destroyed  by  an 
earthquake.  It  is  a  fine  church,  opening  out  a 
magnificent  space  in  its  nave  and  aisles ;  and  be 
neath  the  great  dome  stands  the  small  old  chapel, 
with  its  rude  stone  walls,  in  which  St.  Francis 
founded  his  order.  This  chapel  and  the  dome  appear 
to  have  been  the  only  portions  of  the  ancient  church 
that  were  not  destroyed  by  the  earthquake.  The 
dwelling  of  St.  Francis  is  said  to  be  also  preserved 
•\vithin  the  church  ;  but  we  did  not  see  it,  unless  it 
were  a  little  dark  closet  into  which  we  squeezed 
to  see  some  frescos  by  La  Spagna,  It  had  an  old 
wooden  door,  of  which  U — —  picked  off  a  little  bit 
of  a  chip,  to  serve  as  a  relic.  There  is  a  fresco  in 
the  church,  on  the  pediment  of  the  chapel,  by  Over" 
beck,  representing  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin. 
It  did  not  strike  me  as  wonderfully  fine,  The  other 
pictures,  of  which  there  were  many,  were  modern, 
and  of  no  great  merit. 

We  pursued  our  way,  and  came,  by  and  by,  to  the 
foot  of  the  high  hill  on  which  stands  Perugia,  and 
which  is  so  long  and  steep  that  Gactano  took  ft  yoke 
cf  oxen  to  aid  lua  horses  ift  the  ascend  Wo  al), 


262  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

except  ray  wife,  walked  a  part  of  the  way  up,  and  I 
myself,  with  J —  —  for  my  companion,  kept  on  even 
to  the  city  gate,  — a  distance,  I  should  think,  of  two  or 
three  miles,  at  least.  The  lower  part  of  the  road  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  hill,  with  a  narrow  valley  on  our 
left  •  and  as  the  sun  had  now  broken  out,  its  verdure 
and  fertility,  its  foliage  and  cultivation,  shone  forth  in 
miraculous  beauty,  as  green  as  England,  as  bright  as 
only  Italy.  Perugia  appeared  above  us,  crowning  a 
mighty  hill,  the  most  picturesque  of  cities ;  and  the 
higher  we  ascended,  the  more  the  view  opened  before 
us,  as  we  looked  back  pn  the  course  that  we  had  trav 
ersed,  and  saw  the  wide  valley,  sweeping  down  and 
spreading  out,  bounded  afar  by  mountains,  and  sleep 
ing  in  sun  and  shadow.  No  language  nor  any  art  of 
the  pencil  can  give  an  idea  of  the  scene.  When  God 
expressed  himself  in  the  landscape  to  mankind,  he 
did  not  intend  that  it  should  be  translated  into  any 
tongue  save  his  own  immediate  one.  J mean 
while,  whose  heart  is  now  wholly  in  snail-shells,  was 
rummaging  for  them  among  the  stones  and  hedges 
by  the  roadside ;  yet,  doubtless,  enjoyed  the  prospect 
more  than  he  knew.  The  coach  lagged  far  behind 
us,  and  when  it  came  lip,  we  entered  the  gate,  where 
a  soldier  appeared,  and  demanded  my  passport.  We 
drove  to  the  Grand  Hotel  do  France,  which  is  near 
the  gate, -and  two  fine  little  boys  ran  beside  the 
carriage,  well  dressed  and  well  looking  enough  to 
have  been  a  gentleman's  sons,  but  claiming  Gaetano 
for  their  father.  He  is  an  inhabitant  of  Perugia, 
and  has  therefore  reached  ln"s,  awn  home,  though  wo 


1858.]  ITALY.  263 

are  still   little   more   than   midway  to  our  journey's 
end. 

Our  hotel  proves,  thus  far,  to  be  the  best  that  we 
have  yet  met  with.  We  are  only  in  the  outskirts  of 
Perugia ;  the  bulk  of  the  city,  where  the  most  inter 
esting  churches  and  the  public  edifices  are  situated, 

being  far  above  us  on  the  hill.     My  wife,  U ,  Miss 

Shepard,  and  R streamed  forth  immediately,  and 

saw  a  church ;    but  J ,   who  hates  them,  and  I 

remained  behind;  and,  for  my  part,  I  added  several 
pages  to  this  volume  of  scribble. 

This  morning  was  as  bright  as  morning  could  be, 
even  in  Italy,  and  in  this  transparent  mountain 
atmosphere.  We  at  first  declined  the  services  of  a 
cicerone,  and  went  out  in  the  hopes  of  finding  our 
way  to  whatever  we  wished  to  see,  by  our  own 
instincts.  This  proved  to  be  a  mistaken  hope,  how 
ever  ;  and  we  wandered  about  the  upper  city,  much 
persecuted  by  a  shabby  old  man  who  wished  to  guide 
us;  so,  at  last,  Miss  Shepard  went  back  in  quest  of 
the  cicerone  at  the  hotel,  and,  meanwhile,  we  climbed 
to  the  summit  of  the  hill  of  Perugia,  and,  leaning  over 
a  wall,  looked  forth  upon  a  most  magnificent  view  of 
mountain  and  valley,  terminating  in  some  peaks, 
lofty  and  dim,  which  surely  must  be  the  Apennines. 
There  again  a  young  man  accosted  us,  offering  to 
guide  us  to  the  Cambio  or  Exchange ;  and  as  this 
was  one  of  the  places  which  we  especially  wished  to 
see,  we  accepted  his  services.  By  the  by,  I  ought  to 
have  mentioned  that  we 'had  already  entered  a  church 
(San  Luigi,  I  believe),  the  interior  of  which  we  found 


2G4  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

very  impressive,  dim  with  the  light  of  stained  and 
painted  windows,  insomuch  that  it  at  first  seemed 
almost  dark,  and  we  could  only  see  the  bright 
twinkling  of  the  tapers  at  the  shrines ;  but,  after  a 
few  minutes,  we  discerned  the  tall  octagonal  pillars 
of  the  nave,  marble,  and  supporting  a  beautiful  roof 
of  crossed  arches.  The  church  was  neither  Gothic 
nor  classic,  but  a  mixture  of  both,  and  most  likely 
barbarous ;  yet  it  had  a  grand  effect  in  its  tinted  twi 
light,  and  convinced  me  more  than  ever  how  desir 
able  it  is  that  religious  edifices  should  have  painted 
windows. 

The  door  of  the  Cambio  proved  to  be  one  that  we 
had  passed  several  times,  while  seeking  for  it,  and  was 
very  near  the  church  just  mentioned,  which  fronts  on 
one  side  of  the  same  piazza.  We  were  received  by 
an  old  gentleman,  who  appeared  to  be  a  public 
officer,  and  found  ourselves  in  a  small  room,  wain 
scoted  with  beautifully  carved  oak,  roofed  with  a 
coved  ceiling,  painted  with  symbols  of  the  planets, 
and  arabesqued  in  rich  designs  by  Raphael,  and 
lined  with  splendid  frescos  of  subjects,  scriptural 
and  historical,  by  Perugino.  When  the  room  was  in 
its  first  glory,  I  can  conceive  that  the  world  had  not 
elsewhere  to  show,  within  so  small  a  space,  such  mag 
nificence  and  beauty  as  were  then  displayed  here. 
Even  now,  I  enjoyed  (to  the  best  of  my  belief,  for  we 
can  never  feel  sure  that  we  arc  not  bamboozling  our 
selves  in  such  matters)  some  real  pleasure  in  what  I 
saw  ;  and  especially  seemed  to  feel,  after  all  these 
ages,  the  old  painter's  devout  sentiment  still  breathing 


1858.]  ITALY.  265 

forth  from  the  religious  pictures,  the  work  of  a  hand 
that  had  so  long  been  dust. 

When  we  had  looked  long  at  these,  the  old  gentle 
man  led  us  into  a  chapel,  of  the  same  size  as  the 
former  room,  and  built  in  the  same  fashion,  wain 
scoted  likewise  with  old  oak.  The  walls  were  also 
frescoed,  entirely  frescoed,  and  retained  more  of  their 
original  brightness  than  those  we  had  already  seen, 
although  the  pictures  were  the  production  of  a  some 
what  inferior  hand,  a  pupil  of  Perugino.  They  seemed 
to  be  very  striking,  however,  not  the  less  so,  that  one 
of  them  provoked  an  unseasonable  smile.  It  was  the 
decapitation  of  John  the  Baptist ;  and  this  holy  per 
sonage  was  represented  as  still  on  his  knees,  with  his 
hands  clasped  in  prayer,  although  the  executioner 
was  already  depositing  the  head  in  a  charger,  and  the 
blood  was  spouting  from  the  headless  trunk,  directly, 
as  it  were,  into  the  face  of  the  spectator. 

While  we  were  in  the  outer  room,  the  cicerone  who 
first  offered  his  services  at  the  hotel  had  come  in ;  so 
we  paid  our  chance  guide,  and  expected  him  to  take 
his  leave.  It  is  characteristic  of  this  idle  country, 
however,  that  if  you  once  speak  to  a  person,  or  con 
nect  yourself  with  him  by  the  slightest  possible  tie, 
you  will  hardly  get  rid  of  him  by  anything  short  of 
main  force.  He  still  lingered  in  the  room,  and  was 
still  there  when  I  came  away  ;  for,  having  had  as 
many  pictures  as  I  could  digest,  I  left  my  wife  and 

U with  the  cicerone,  arid  set  out  on  a  ramble 

with  J .  We  plunged  from  the  upper  city  down 

through  some  of  the  strangest  passages  that  ever 

VOL.  i.  12 


266  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

were  called  streets;  some  of  them,  indeed,  being 
arched  all  over,  and,  going  down  into  the  unknown 
darkness,  looked  like  caverns ;  and  we  followed  one 
of  them  doubtfully,  till  it  opened  out  upon  the  light. 
The  houses  on  each  side  were  divided  only  by  a  pace 
or  two,  and  communicated  with  one  another,  here  and 
there,  by  arched  passages.  They  looked  very  ancient, 
and  may  have  been  inhabited  by  Etruscan  princes, 
judging  from  the  massiveness  of  some  of  the  founda 
tion  stones.  The  present  inhabitants,  nevertheless, 
are  by  no  means  princely,  —  shabby  men,  and  the  care 
worn  wives  and  mothers  of  the  people,  —  one  of  whom 
was  guiding  a  child  in  leading-strings  through  these 
antique  alleys,  where  hundreds  of  generations  have 
trod  before  those  little  feet.  Finally  we  came  out 
through  a  gateway,  the  same  gateway  at  which  we 
entered  last  night. 

I  ought  to  have  mentioned,  in  the  narrative  of 
yesterday,  that  we  crossed  the  Tiber  shortly  before 
reaching  Pemgia,  already  a  broad  and  rapid  stream, 
and  already  distinguished  by  the  same  turbid  and 
mud-puddly  quality  of  water  that  we  see  in  it  at 
Rome.  I  think  it  will  never  be  so  disagreeable  to 
me  hereafter,  now  that  I  find  this  turbidness  to  bo 
its  native  color,  and  not  (like  that  of  the  Thames) 
accruing  from  city  sewers  or  any  impurities  of  the 
lowlands. 

As  I  now  remember,  the  small  Chapel  of  Santa 
Maria  degli  Angeli  seems  to  have  been  originally  the 
house  of  St.  Francis. 

May  2$th.  —  This  morning  we  visited  the  Church  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  267 

the  Domenicans,  where  we  saw  some  quaint  pictures 
by  Fra  Angelico,  with  a  good  deal  of  religious  sincerity 
in  them ;  also  a  picture  of  St.  Columbo  by  Perugino, 
which  unquestionably  is  very  good.  To  confess  the 
truth,  I'took  more  interest  in  a  fair  Gothic  monument, 
in  white  marble,  of  Pope  Benedict  XII.,  representing 
him  reclining  under  a  canopy,  while  two  angels  draw 
aside  the  curtain,  the  canopy  being  supported  by 
twisted  columns,  richly  ornamented.  I  like  this  over 
flow  and  gratuity  of  device  with  which  Gothic  sculp 
ture  works  out  its  designs,  after  seeing  so  much  of  the 
simplicity  of  classic  art  in  marble. 

We  then  tried  to  find  the  Church  of  San  Pietro  in 
Martire,  but  without  success,  although  every  person 
of  whom  we  inquired  immediately  attached  himself  or 
herself  to  us,  and  could  hardly  be  got  rid  of  by  any 
efforts  on  our  part.  Nobody  seemed  to  know  the 
church  we  wished  for,  but  all  directed  us  to  another 
Church  of  San  Pietro,  which  contains  nothing  of  inter 
est  ;  whereas  the  right  church  is.  supposed  to  contain 
a  celebrated  picture  by  Perugino. 

Finally,  we  ascended  the  hill  and  the  city  proper  of 
Perugia  (for  our  hotel  is  in  one  of  the  suburbs),  and 

J and  I  set  out  on  a  ramble  about  the  city.  It 

was  market-day,  and  the  principal  piazza,  with  the 
neighboring  streets,  was  crowded  with  people 

The  best  part  of  Perugia,  that  in  which  the  grand 
piazzas  and  the  principal  public  edifices  stand,  seems 
to  be  a  nearly  level  plateau  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill ;  but  it  is  of*  no  very  great  extent,  and  the 
streets  rapidly  run  downward  on  either  side.  J 


268  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

and  I  followed  one  of  these  descending  streets,  and 
were  led  a  long  way  by  it,  till  we  at  last  emerged  from 
one  of  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  had  another  view 
of  the  mountains  and  valleys,  the  fertile  and  sunny 
wilderness  in  which  this  ancient  civilization  stftnds. 

On  the  right  of  the  gate  there  was  a  rude  country- 
path,  partly  overgrown  with  grass,  bordered  by  a 
hedge  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  by  the  gray  city 
wall,  at  the  base  of  which  the  tract  kept  onward.  We 
followed  it,  hoping  that  it  would  lead  us  to  some 
other  gate  by  which  we  might  re-enter  the  city ;  but 
it  soon  grew  so  indistinct  and  broken,  that  it  was 
evidently  on  the  point  of  melting  into  somebody's 
olive-orchard  or  wheat-fields  or  vineyards,  all  of  which 
lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge ;  and  a  kindly  old 
woman  of  whom  I  inquired  told  me  (if  I  rightly  under 
stood  her  Italian)  that  I  should  find  no  further  passage 
in  that  direction.  So  we  turned  back,  much  broiled 
in  the  hot  sun,  and  only  now  and  then  relieved  by  the 
shadow  of  an  angle  or  a  tower. 

A  lame  beggar-man  sat  by  the  gate,  and  as  we 

passed  him  J gave  him  two  baiocchi  (which  he 

himself  had  begged  of  me  to  buy  an  orange  with),  and 
was  loaded  with  the  pauper's  prayers  and  benedictions 
as  we  entered  the  city.  A  great  many  blessings  can 
be  bought  for  very  little  money  anywhere  in  Italy ; 
and  whether  they  avail  anything  or  no,  it  is  pleasant 
to  see  that  the  beggars  have  gratitude  enough  to 
bestow  them  in  such  abundance. 

Of  all  beggars  I  think  a  little  fellow,  who  rode 
beside  our  carriage  on  a  stick,  his  bare  feet  scampering 


1858.]  ITALY.  269 

merrily,  while  he  managed  his  steed  with  one  hand, 
and  held  out  the  other  for  charity,  howling  piteously 
the  while,  amused  me  most. 


PASSIGNANO. 

May  29^. — We  left  Perugia  at  about  three 
o'clock  to-day,  and  went  down  a  pretty  steep  descent ; 
but  I  have  no  particular  recollection  of  the  road  till  it 
again  began  to  descend,  before  reaching  the  village  of 
Mugione.  We  all,  except  my  wife,  walked  up  the 
long  hill,  while  the  vetturo  was  dragged  after  us  with 
the  aid  of  a  yoke  of  oxen.  Arriving  first  at  the 
village,  I  leaned  over  the  wall  to  admire  the  beautiful 
paese  ("le  bel  piano,"  as  a  peasant  called  it,  who 
made  acquaintance  with  me)  that  lay  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  so  level,  so  bounded  within  moderate  limits  by 
a  frame  of  hills  and  ridges  that  it  looked  like  a  green 
lake.  In  fact,  I  think  it  was  once  a  real  lake,  which 
made  its  escape  from  its  bed,  as  I  have  known  some 
lakes  to  have  done  in  America. 

Passing  through  and  beyond  the  village,  I  saw,  on 
a  height  above  the  road,  a  half-ruinous  tower,  with 
great  cracks  running  down  its  walls,  half-way  from 
top  to  bottom.  Some  little  children  had  mounted  the 
hill  with  us,  begging  all  the  way ;  they  were  recruited 
with  additional  members  in  the  village  ;  and  here, 
beneath  the  ruinous  tower,  a  madman,  as  it  seemed, 
assaulted  us,  and  ran  almost  under  the  carriage-wheels, 
in  his  earnestness  to  get  a  baioccho.  Ridding  our 
selves  of  these  annoyances,  we  drove  on,  and,  between 


270  FKENCH  AMD  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

five  and  six  o'clock,  came  in  sight  of  the  Lake  of 
Thrasymene,  obtaining  our  first  view  of  it,  I  think,  in 
its  longest  extent.  There  were  high  hills,  and  one 
mountain  with  its  head  in  the  clouds,  visible  on  tho 
farther  shore,  and  on  the  horizon  beyond  it ;  but  the 
nearer  banks  were  long  ridges,  and  hills  of  only  mod 
erate  height.  The  declining  sun  threw  a  broad  sheen 
of  brightness  over  the  surface  of  the  lake,  so  that  we 
could  not  well  see  it  for  excess  of  light ;  but  had  a 
vision  of  headlands  and  islands  floating  about  in  a 
flood  of  gold,  and  blue,  airy  heights  bounding  it  afar. 
When  we  first  drew  near  the  lake,  there  was  bat  a 
narrow  tract,  covered  with  vines  and  olives,  between 
it  and  the  hill  that  rose  on  the  other  side.  As  we 
advanced,  the  tract  grew  wider,  and  was  very  fertile, 
as  was  the  hillside,  with  wheat-fields,  and  vines,  and 
olives,  especially  the  latter,  which,  s}rmbol  of  peace  as 
it  is,  seemed  to  find  something  congenial  to  it  in  tho 
soil  stained  long  ago  with  blood.  Farther  onward, 
the  space  between  the  lake  and  hill  grew  still 
narrower,  the  road  skirting  along  almost  close  to  tho 
water-side  ;  and  when  we  reached  the  town  of  Pas- 
signano  there  was  but  room  enough  for  its  dirty  and 
ugly  street  to  stretch  along  the  shore.  I  have  seldom 
beheld  a  lovelier  scene  than  that  of  the  lake  and  the 
landscape  around  it ;  never  an  uglier  one  than  that  of 
this  idle  and  decaying  village,  where  we  were  imme 
diately  surrounded  by  beggars  of  all  ages,  and  by 
men  vociferously  proposing  to  row  us  out  upon  the 
lake.  We  declined  their  offers  of  a  boat,  for  the 
evening  was  very  fresh  and  cool,  insomuch  that  I 


1858.]  ITALY.  271 

should  have  liked  ail  outside  garment,  —  a  temperature 
that  I  had  not  anticipated,  so  near  the  beginning  of 
June,  in  sunny  Italy.  Instead  of  a  row,  we  took  a 
walk  through  the  village,  hoping  to  come  upon  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  in  some  secluded  spot;  but  an 
incredible  number  of  beggar-children,  both  boys  and 
girls,  but  more  of  the  latter,  rushed  out  of  every  door, 
and  went  along  with  us,  all  howling  their  miserable 
petitions  at  the  same  moment.  The  village  street  is 
long,  and  our  escort  waxed  more  numerous  at  every 
step,  till  Miss  Shepard  actually  counted  forty  of  these 
little  reprobates,  and  more  were  doubtless  added  after 
wards.  At  first,  no  doubt,  they  begged  in  earnest 
hope  of  getting  some  baiocchi ;  but,  by  and  by,  per 
ceiving  that  we  had  determined  not  to  give  them  any 
thing,  they  made  a  joke  of  the  matter,  and  began  to 
laugh  and  to  babble,  and  turn  heels  over  head,  still 
keeping  about  us,  like  a  swarm  of  flies,  and  now  and 
then  begging  again  with  all  their  might.  There  were 
as  few  pretty  faces  as  I  ever  saw  among  the  same 
number  of  children  ;  and  they  were  as  ragged  and 
dirty  little  imps  as  any  in  the  world,  and,  moreover, 
tainted  the  air  with  a  very  disagreeable  odor  from 
their  rags  and  dirt ;  rugged  and  healthy  enough, 
nevertheless,  and  sufficiently  intelligent ;  certainly 
bold  and  persevering  too  ;  so  that  it  is  hard  to  say 
what  they  needed  to  fit  them  for  success  in  life.  Yet 
they  begin  as  beggars,  and- no  doubt  will  end  so,  as  all 
their  parents  and  grandparents  do  ;  for  in  our  walk 
through  the  village,  every  old  woman  and  many 
younger  ones  held  out  their  hands  for  alms,  as  if  they 


979 


FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 


had  all  been  famished.  Yet  these  people  kept  their 
houses  over  their  heads  ;  had  firesides  in  winter,  I 
suppose,  and  food  out  of  their  little  gardens  every 
day  '}  pigs  to  kill,  chickens,  olives,  wine,  and  a  great 
many  things  to  make  life  comfortable.  The  children, 
desperately  as  they  begged,  looked  in  good  bodily 
case,  and  happy  enough ;  but,  certainly,  there  was  a 
look  of  earnest  misery  in  the  faces  of  some  of  the  old 
women,  either  genuine  or  exceedingly  well  acted. 

I  could  not  bear  the  persecution,  and  went  into  our 
hotel,  determining  not  to  venture  out  again  till  our 
departure ;  at  least  not  in  the  daylight.  My  wife, 
and  the  rest  of  the  family,  however,  continued  their 
walk,  and  at  length  were  relieved  from  their  little 
pests  by  three  policemen  (the  very  images  of  those 
in  Rome,  in  their  blue,  long-skirted  coats,  cocked 
chapeaux-bras,  white  shoulder-belts,  and  swords),  who 
boxed  their  ears,  and  dispersed  them.  Meanwhile, 
they  had  quite  driven  away  all  sentimental  effusion 
(of  which  I  felt  more,  really,  than  I  expected)  about 
the  Lake  of  Thrasymene. 

The  inn  of  Passignano  promised  little  from  its  out 
ward  appearance  ;  a  tall,  dark  old  house,  with  a  stone 
staircase  leading  us  up  from  one  sombre  story  to  an 
other,  into  a  brick-paved  dining-room,  with  our  sleep 
ing-chambers  on  each  side.  There  was  a  fireplace  of 
tremendous  depth  and  height,  fit  to  receive  big  forest- 
logs,  and  with  a  queer,  double  pair  of  ancient  andirons, 
capable  of  sustaining  them  ;  and  in  r.  handful  of 
ashes  lay  a  small  stick  of  olive-wood,  —  a  specimen,  I 
suppose,  of  the  sort  of  fuel  which  had  made  the  chim- 


1858.]  ITALY.  273 

ney  black,  in  the  course  of  a  good  many  years.  There 
must  have  been  much  shivering  and  misery  of  cold 
around  this  fireplace.  However,  we  needed  no  fire 
now,  and  there  was  promise  of  good  cheer  in  the  spec 
tacle  of  a  man  cleaning  some  lake-fish  for  our  dinner, 
while  the  poor  things  flounced  and  wriggled  under  the 
knife. 

The  dinner  made  its  appearance,  after  a  long  while, 
and  was  most  plentiful,  ....  so  that,  having  meas 
ured  our  appetite  in  anticipation  of  a  paucity  of  food, 
we  had  to  make  more  room  for  such  overflowing  abun 
dance. 

When  dinner  was  over,  it  was  already  dusk,  and 
before  retiring  I  opened  the  window,  and  looked  out 
on  Lake  Thrasymene,  the  margin  of  which  lies  just  on 
the  other  side  of  the  narrow  village  street.  The  moon 
was  a  day  or  two  past  the  full,  just  a  little  clipped  011 
the  edge,  but  gave  light  enough  to  show  the  hike  and 
its  nearer  shores  almost  as  distinctly  as  by  day ;  and 
there  being  a  ripple  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  it 
made  a  sheen  of  silver  over  a  wide  space. 

AREZZO. 

May  30th.  — We  started  at  six  o'clock,  and  left  the 
one  ugly  street  of  Passignano,  before  many  of  the 
beggars  were  awake.  Immediately  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  village,  there  is  very  little  space  between  the  lake 
in  front  and  the  ridge  of  hills  in  the  rear;  but  the 
plain  widened  as  we  drove  onward,  so  that  the  lake 
was  scarcely  to  be  seen,  or  often  quite  hidden  among 
12*  R 


274  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  intervening  trees,  although  we  could  still  discern 
the  summits  of  the  mountains  that  rise  far  beyond  its 
shores.  The  country  was  fertile,  presenting,  on  each 
side  of  the  road,  vines  trained  on  fig-trees  ;  wheat- 
fields  and  olives,  in  greater  abundance  than  any  other 
product.  On  our  right,  with  a  considerable  width  of 
plain  between,  was  the  bending  ridge  of  hills  that  shut 
in  the  Iloman  army,  by  its  close  approach  to  the  lake 
at  Passignano.  In  perhaps  half  an  hour's  drive,  we 
reached  the  little  bridge  that  throws  its  arch  over  the 
Sanguinetto,  and  alighted  there.  The  stream  has  but 
about  a  yard's  width  of  water;  and  its  whole  course, 
between  the  hills  and  the  lake,  might  well  have  been 
reddened  and  swollen  with  the  blood  of  the  multitude 
of  slain  Romans.  Its  name  put  me  in  mind  of  the 
Bloody  Brook  at  Deerfield,  where  a  company  of  Massa 
chusetts  men  were  massacred  by  the  Indians. 

The  Sanguinetto  flows  over  a  bed  of  pebbles ;  and 

J crept  under  the  bridge,  and  got  one  of  them 

for  a  memorial,  while  U ,  Miss  Shepard,  and  R • 

plucked  some  olive  twigs  and  oak  leaves,  and  made 
them  into  wreaths  together,  —  symbols  of  victory  and 
peace.  The  tower,  which  is  traditionally  named  after 
Hannibal,  is  seen  on  a  height  that  makes  part  of  the 
line  of  enclosing  hills.  It  is  a  large,  old  castle,  appar 
ently  of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  a  square  front,  and  a 
battlemented  sweep  of  wall.  The  town  of  Torres  (its 
name,  I  think),  where  Hannibal's  main  army  is  sup 
posed  to  have  lain  while  the  Romans  came  through 
the  pass,  was  in  full  view  ;  and  I  could  understand 
the  plan  of  the  battle  better  than  any  system  of  mili- 


1858.]  ITALY.  275 

tary  operations  which  I  have  hitherto  tried  to  fathom. 
Both  last  night  and  to-day,  I  found  myself  stirred 
more  sensibly  than  I  expected  by  the  influences  of 
this  scene.  The  old  battle-field  is  still  fertile  in 
thoughts  and  emotions,  though  it  is  so  many  ages 
since  the  blood  spilt  there  has  ceased  to  make  the 
grass  and  flowers  grow  more  luxuriantly.  I  doubt 
whether  I  should  feel  so  much  on  the  field  of  Saratoga 
or  Monmouth ;  but  these  old  classic  battle-fields  be 
long  to  the  whole  world,  and  each  man  feels  as  if 
his  own  forefathers  fought  them.  Mine,  by  the  by,  if 
they  fought  them  at  all,  must  have  been  on  the  side 
of  Hannibal ;  for,  certainly,  I  sympathized  with  him, 
and  exulted  in  the  defeat  of  the  Romans  on  their  own 
soil.  They  excite  much  the  same  emotion  of  general 
hostility  that  the  English  do.  Byron  has  written  some 
very  fine  stanzas  on  the  battle-field,  —  not  so  good  as 
others  that  he  has  written  on  classical  scenes  and  sub 
jects,  yet  wonderfully  impressing  his  own  perception 
of  the  subject  on  the  reader.  Whenever  he  has  to 
deal  with  a  statue,  a  ruin,  a  battle-field,  he  pounces 
upon  the  topic  like  a  vulture,  and  tears  out  its  heart 
in  a  twinkling,  so  that  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said. 

If  I  mistake  not,  our  passport  was  examined  by 
the  papal  officers  at  the  last  custom-house  in  the 
pontifical  territorv,  before  we  traversed  the  path 
through  which  the  Roman  army  marched  to  its  de 
struction.  Lake  Thrasymene,  of  which  we  took  our 
last  view,  is  not  deep  set  among  the  hills,  but  is 
bordered  by  long  ridges,  with  loftier  mountains  re- 


276  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ceding  into  the  distance.  It  is  not  to  be  compared 
to  Windermere  or  Loch  Lomond  for  beauty,  nor  with 
Lake  Champlain  and  many  a  smaller  lake  in  my  own 
country,  none  of  which,  I  hope,  will  ever  become  so 
historically  interesting  as  this  famous  spot.  A  few 
miles  onward  our  passport  was  countersigned  at  the 
Tuscan  custom-house,  and  our  luggage  permitted  to 
pass  without  examination  on  payment  of  a  fee  of  nine 
or  ten  pauls,  besides  two  pauls  to  the  porters.  There 
appears  to  be  no  concealment  on  the  part  of  the 
officials  in  thus  waiving  the  exercise  of  their  duty, 
and  I  rather  imagine  that  the  thing  is  recognized  and 
permitted  by  their  superiors.  At  all  events,  it  is 
very  convenient  for  the  traveller. 

We  saw  Cortona,  sitting,  like  so  many  other  cities 
in  this  region,  on  its  hill,  and  arrived  about  noon  at 
Arezzo,  which  also  stretches  up  a  high  hillside,  and 
is  surrounded,  as  they  all  are,  by  its  walls  or  the  re 
mains  of  one,  with  a  fortified  gate  across  every  en 
trance. 

I  remember  one  little  village,  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Clitumnus,  which  we  entered  by 
one  gateway,  and,  in  the  course  of  two  minutes  at  the 
utmost,  left  by  the  opposite  one,  so  diminutive  was 
this  walled  town.  Everything  hereabouts  bears  traces 
of  times  when  war  was  the  prevalent  condition,  and 
peace  only  a  rare  gleam  of  sunshine. 

At  Arezzo  we  have  put  up  at  the  Hotel  Royal, 
which  has  the  appearance  of  a  grand  old  house,  and 
proves  to  be  a  tolerable  inn  enough.  After  lunch, 
we  wandered  forth  to  see  the  town,  which  did  not 


1858.]  ITALY.  277 

greatly  interest  me  after  Perugia,  being  much  more 
modern  and  less  picturesque  in  its  aspect.  We  went 
to  the  Cathedral,  —  a  Gothic  edifice,  but  not  of  strik 
ing  exterior.  As  the  doors  were  closed,  and  not  to  be 
opened  till  three  o'clock,  we  seated  ourselves  under 
the  trees,  on  a  high,  grassy  space  surrounded  and 
intersected  with  gravel- walks,  —  a  public  promenade, 
in  short,  near  the  Cathedral ;  and  after  resting  our 
selves  here  we  went  in  search  of  Petrarch's  house, 
which  Murray  mentions  as  being  in  this  neighbor 
hood.  We  inquired  of  several  people,  who  knew 
nothing  about  the  matter ;  one  woman  misdirected 
us,  out  of  mere  fun,  I  believe,  for  she  afterwards  met 
us  and  asked  how  we  had  succeeded.  But  finally, 

through 's  enterprise  and  perseverance,  we  found 

the  spot,  not  a  stone's-throw  from  where  we  had  been 
sitting. 

Petrarch's  house  stands  below  the  promenade  which 
I  have  just  mentioned,  and  within  hearing  of  the 
reverberations  between  the  strokes  of  the  Cathedral 
bell.  It  is  two  stories  high,  covered  with  a  light- 
colored  stucco,  and  has  not  the  slightest  appearance 
of  antiquity,  no  more  than  many  a  modern  and 
modest  dwelling-house  in  an  American  city.  Its 
only  remarkable  feature  is  a  pointed  arch  of  stone, 
let  into  the  plastered  wall,  and  forming  a  framework 
for  the  doorway.  I  set  my  foot  on  the  door-steps, 

ascended  them,  and  Miss  Shepard  and  J gathered 

some  weeds  or  blades  of  grass  that  grew  in  the  chinks 
between  the  steps.  There  is  a  long  inscription  on  a 
slab  of  marble  set  in  the  front  of  the  house,  as  is  the 


278  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

fashion  in  Arezzo  when  a  house  has  been  the  birth 
place  or  residence  of  a  distinguished  man. 

Right  opposite  Petrarch's  birth-house  —  and  it  must 
have  been  the  well  whence  the  water  was  drawn  that 
first  bathed  him  —  is  a  well  which  Boccaccio  has  in 
troduced  into  one  of  his  stories.  It  is  surrounded 
with  a  stone  curb,  octagonal  in  shape,  and  evidently 
as  ancient  as  Boccaccio's  time.  It  has  a  wooden 
cover,  through  which  is  a  square  opening,  and  look 
ing  down  I  saw  my  own  face  in  the  water  far  be 
neath. 

There  is  no  familiar  object  connected  with  daily 
life  so  interesting  as  a  well ;  and  this  well  •  of  old 
Arezzo,  whence  Petrarch  had  drank,  around  which 
he  had  played  in  his  boyhood,  and  which  Boccaccio 
has  made  famous,  really  interested  me  more  than  the 
Cathedral.  It  lies  right  under  the  pavement  of  the 
street,  under  the  sunshine,  without  any  shade  of  trees 
about  it,  or  any  grass,  except  a  little  that  grows  in 
the  crevices  of  its  stones ;  but  the  shape  of  its  stone 
work  would  make  it  a  pretty  object  in  an  engraving. 
As  I  lingered  round  it  I  thought  of  my  own  town- 
pump  in  old  Salem,  and  wondered  whether  my  towns 
people  would  ever  point  it  out  to  strangers,  and 
whether  the  stranger  would  gaze  at  it  with  any 
degree  of  such  interest  as  I  felt  in  Boccaccio's  well. 
0,  certainly  not ;  but  yet  I  made  that  humble-  town- 
pump  the  most  celebrated  structure  in  the  good  town. 
A  thousand  and  a  thousand  people  had  pumped  there, 
merely  to  water  oxen  or  fill  their  teakettles;  but 
when  once  I  grasped  the  handle,  a  rill  gushed  forth 


1858.]  ITALY.  279 

that  meandered  as  for  as  England,  as  far  as  India, 
besides  tasting  pleasantly  in  every  town  and  village 
of  our  own  country.  I  like  to  think  of  this,  so  long 
after  I  did  it,  and  so  far  from  home,  and  am  not 
without  hopes  of  some'  kindly  local  remembrance  on 
this  score. 

Petrarch's  house  is  not  a  separate  and  insulated 
building,  but  stands  in  contiguity  and  connection 
with  other  houses  on  each  side ;  and  all,  when  I  saw 
them,  as  well  as  the  whole  street,  extending  down 
the  slope  of  the  hill,  had  the  bright  and  sunny  aspect 
of  a  modern  town. 

As  the  Cathedral  was  not  yet  open,  and  as  J 

and  I  had  not  so  much  patience  as  my  wife,  we  left 
her  and  Miss  Shepard,  and  set  out  to  return  to  the 
hotel.  We  lost  our  way,  however,  and  finally  had  to 
return  to  the  Cathedral,  to  take  a  fresh  start ;  and  as 
the  door  was  now  open  we  went  in.  We  found  the 
Cathedral  very  stately  with  its  great  arches,  and 
darkly  magnificent  with  the  dim  rich  light  coming 
through  its  painted  windows,  some  of  which  are 
reckoned  the  most  beautiful  that  the  whole  world  has 
to  show.  The  hues  are  far  more  brilliant  than  those 
of  any  painted  glass  I  saw  in  England,  and  a  great 
wheel  window  looks  like  a  constellation  of  many- 
colored  gems.  The  old  English  glass  gets  so  smoky 
and  dull  with  dust,  that  its  pristine  beauty  cannot 
any  longer  be  even  imagined  ;  nor  did  I  imagine  it 
till  I  saw 'these  Italian  windows.  We  saw  nothing  of 
my  wife  and  Miss  Shtpard ;  but  found  afterwards 
that  they  had  been  much  annoyed  by  the  attentions 


280  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1853. 

of  a  priest  who  wished  to  show  them  the  Cathedral, 
till  they  finally  told  him  that  they  had  no  money  with 
them,  when  he  left  them  without  another  word.  The 
attendants  in  churches  seem  to  be  quite  as  venal  as 
most  other  Italians,'  and,  for  the  sake  of  their  little 
profit,  they  do  not  hesitate  to  interfere  with  the  great 
purposes  for  which  their  churches  were  built  and 
decorated ;  hanging  curtains,  for  instance,  before  all 
the  celebrated  pictures,  or  hiding  them  away  in  the 
sacristy,  so  that  they  cannot  be  seen  without  a  fee. 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  we  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and,  in  the  street  beneath,  there  was  a  very 
busy  scene,  it  being  Sunday,  and  the  whole  popula 
tion,  apparently,  being  astir,  —  promenading  up  and 
down  the  smooth  flagstones,  which  made  the  breadth 
of  the  street  one  sidewalk,  or  at  their  windows,  or 
sitting  before  their  doors. 

The  vivacity  of  the  population  in  these  parts  is 
very  striking,  after  the  gravity  and  lassitude  of 
Rome ;  and  the  air  was  made  cheerful  with  the  talk 
and  laughter  of  hundreds  of  voices.  I  think  the 
women  are  prettier  than  the  Roman  maids  and 
matrons,  who,  as  I  think  I  have  said  before,  have 
chosen  to  be  very  uncomely  since  the  rape  of  their 
ancestresses,  by  way  of  wreaking  a  terrible  spite  and 
revenge. 

I  have  nothing  more  to  say  of  Arezzo,  except  that, 
finding  the  ordinary  wine  very  bad,  as  black  as  ink, 
and  tasting  as  if  it  had  tar  and  vinegar  in  it,  we 
called  for  a  bottle  of  Monte  Pulciano,  and  were  ex- 
ccecimgly  gladdened  and  mollified  thereby. 


1858.]  ITALY.  281 

INCISA. 

We  left  Arezzo  early  on  Monday  morning,  the  sun 
throwing  the  long  shadows  of  the  trees  across  the 
road,  which  at  first,  after  we  had-  descended  the  hill, 
lay  over  a  plain.  As  the  morning  advanced,  or  as 
we  advanced,  the  country  grew  more  hilly.  We  saw 
many  bits  of  rustic  life,  —  such  as  old  women  tending 
pigs  or  sheep  by  the  roadside,  and  spinning  with  a 
distaff;  women  sewing  under  trees,  or  at  their  own 
doors;  children  leading  goats,  tied  by  the  horns, 
while  they  browse ;  sturdy,  sunburnt  creatures,  in 
petticoats,  but  otherwise  manlike,  at  work  side  by 
side  with  male  laborers  in  the  fields.  The  broad- 
brimmed,  high-crowned  hat  of  Tuscan  straw  is  the 
customary  female  head-dress,  and  is  as  unbecoming 
as  can  possibly  be  imagined,  and  of  little  use,  one 
would  suppose,  as  a  shelter  from  the  sun,  the  brim 
continually  blowing  upward  from  the  face.  Some  of 
the  elder  women  wore  black  felt  hats,  likewise  broad- 
brimmed  ;  and  the  men  wore  felt  hats  also,  shaped  a 
good  deal  like  a  mushroom,  with  hardly  any  brim  at 
all.  The  scenes  in  the  villages  through  which  we 
passed  were  very  lively  and  characteristic,  all  the 
population  seeming  to  be  out  of  doors  :  some  at  the 
butcher's  shop,  others  at  the  well ;  a  tailor  sewing  in 
the  open  air,  with  a  young  priest  sitting  sociably 
beside  him ;  children  at  play ;  women  mending 
clothes,  embroidering,  spinning  with  the  distaff  at 
their  own  door-steps ;  m&ny  idlers,  letting  the  pleas 
ant  morning  pass  in  the  sweet-do-nothing;  all  as- 


282  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

sembling  in  the  street,  as  in  the  common  room  of  one 
large  household,  and  thus  brought  close  together,  and 
made  familiar  with  one  another,  as  they  can  never  be 
in  a  different  system  of  society.  As  usual,  along  the 
road,  we  passed  multitudes  of  shrines,  where  the 
Virgin  was  painted  in  fresco,  or  sometimes  repre 
sented  in  bas-reliefs,  within  niches,  or  under  more 
spacious  arches.  It  would  be  a  good  idea  to  place  a 
comfortable  and  shady  seat  beneath  all  these  wayside 
shrines,  where  the  wayfarer  might  rest  himself,  and 
thank  the  Virgin  for  her  hospitality ;  nor  can  I  be 
lieve  that  it  would  offend  her,  any  more  than  other 
incense,  if  he  were  to  regale  himself,  even  in  such 
consecrated  spots,  with  the  fragrance  of  a  pipe  or 
cigar. 

In  the  wire-work  screen,  before  many  of  the  shrines, 
hung  offerings  of  roses  and  other  flowers,  some  wilted 
and  withered,  some  fresh  with  that  morning's  dew, 
some  that  never  bloomed  and  never  faded,  —  being 
artificial.  I  wonder  that  they  do  not  plant  rose-trees 
and  all  kinds  of  fragrant  and  flowering  shrubs  under 
the  shrines,  and  twine  and  wreathe  them  all  around, 
so  that  the  Virgin  may  dwell  within  a  bower  of  per 
petual  freshness  ;  at  least  put  flower-pots,  with  living 
plants,  into  the  niche.  There  are  many  things  in  the 
customs  of  these  people  that  might  be  made  very 
beautiful,  if  the  sense  of  beauty  were  as  much  alive 
now  as  it  must  have  been  when  these  customs  were 
first  imagined  and  adopted. 

I  must  not  forget,  among  these  little  descriptive 
items,  the  spectacle  of  women  and  girls  bearing  huge 


1858.]  ITALY.  283 

bundles  of  twigs  and  shrubs,  or  grass,  with  scarlet 
poppies  and  blue  flowers  intermixed ;  the  bundles 
sometimes  so  huge  as  almost  to  hide  the  woman's 
figure  from  head  to  heel,  so  that  she  looked  like  a 
locomotive  mass  of  verdure  and  flowers ;  sometimes 
reaching  only  half-way  down  her  back,  so  as  to  show 
the  crooked  knife  slung  behind,  with  which  she  had 
been  reaping  this  strange  harvest-sheaf.  A  Pre- 
Raphaelite  painter  —  the  one,  for  instance,  who  paint 
ed  the  heap  of  autumnal  leaves,  which  we  saw  at  the 
Manchester  Exhibition  —  would  find  an  admirable 
subject  in  one  of  these  girls,  stepping  with  a  free, 
erect,  and  graceful  carriage,  her  burden  on'her  head ; 
and  the  miscellaneous  herbage  and  flowers  would 
give  him  all  the  scope  he  could  desire  for  minute  and 
various  delineation  of  nature. 

The  country  houses  which  we  passed  had  some 
times  open  galleries  or  arcades  on  the  second  story 
and  above,  where  the  inhabitants  might  perform  their 
domestic  labor  in  the  shade  and  in  the  air.  The 
houses  were  often  ancient,  and  most  picturesquely 
time-stained,  the  plaster  dropping  in  spots  from  the 
old  brickwork ;  others  were  tinted  of  pleasant  and 
cheerful  hues ;  some  were  frescoed  with  designs  in 
arabesques,  or  with  imaginary  windows ;  some  had 
escutcheons  of  arms  painted  on  the  front.  Wherever 
there  was  a  pigeon-house,  a  flight  of  doves  were 
represented  as  flying  into  the  holes,  doubtless  for  the 
invitation  and  encouragement  of  the  real  birds. 

Once  or  twice  I  saw  a  bush  stuck  up  before  the 
door  of  what  seemed  to  be  a  wine-shop.  If  so,  it  is 


284  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  ancient  custom,  so  long  disused  in  England,  and 
alluded  to  in  the  proverb,  "Good  wine  needs  no 
bush."  Several  times  we  saw  grass  spread  to  dry  on 
the  road,  covering  half  the  track,  and  concluded  it  to 
have  been  cut  by  the  roadside  for  the  winter  forage  of 
his  ass  by  some  poor  peasant,  or  peasant's  wife,  who 
had  no  grass  land,  except  the  margin  of  the  public 
way. 

A  beautiful  feature  of  the  scene  to-day,  as  the  pre 
ceding  day,  were  the  vines  growing  on  fig-trees  (']),*  and 
often  wreathed  in  rich  festoons  from  one  tree  to  an 
other,  by  and  by  to  be  hung  with  clusters  of  purple 
grapes.  I  suspect  the  vine  is  a  pleasanter  object  of 
sight  under  this  mode  of  culture  than  it  can  be  in 
countries  where  it  produces  a  more  precious  wine,  and 
therefore  is  trained  more  artificially.  Nothing  can  be 
more  picturesque  than  the  spectacle  of  an  old  grape 
vine,  with  almost  a  trunk  of  its  own,  clinging  round 
its  tree,  imprisoning  within  its  strong  embrace  the 
friend  that  supported  its  tender  infancy,  converting 
the  tree  wholly  to  its  own  selfish  ends,  as  seemingly 
flexible  natures  are  apt  to  do,  stretching  out  its 
innumerable  arms  on  every  bough,  and  allowing 
hardly  a  leaf  to  sprout  except  its  own.  I  must  not 
yet  quit  this  hasty  sketch,  without  throwing  in,  both 
in  the  early  morning,  and  later  in  the  forenoon,  the 
mist  that  dreamed  among  the  hills,  and  which,  now 
that  I  have  called  it  mist,  I  feel  almost  more  inclined 
to  call  light,  being  so  quietly  cheerful  with  the  sun- 

*  This  interrogation -mark  must   mean  that  Mr.  Hawthorne 
was  not  sure  they  were  fig-trees.  —  ED. 


1858.]  ITALY.  285 

shine  through  it.  Put  in,  now  and  then,  a  castle 
on  a  hill-top  ;  a  rough  ravine,  a  smiling  valley  ;  a 
mountain  stream,  with  a  far  wider  bed  than  it  at 
present  needs,  and  a  stone  bridge  across  it,  with 
ancient  and  massive  arches;  —  and  I  shall  say  no 
more,  except  that  all  these  particulars,  and  many 
better  ones  which  escape  me,  made  up  a  very  pleasant 
whole. 

At  about  noon  we  drove  into  the  village  of  Incisa, 
and  alighted  at  the  albergo  where  we  were  to  lunch. 
It  was  a  gloomy  old  house,  as  much  like  my  idea  of 
an  Etruscan  tomb  as  anything  else  that  I  can  com 
pare  it  to.  We  passed  into  a  wide  and  lofty  entrance- 
hall,  paved  with  stone,  and  vaulted  with  a  roof  of 
intersecting  arches,  supported  by  heavy  columns  of 
stuccoed-brick,  the  whole  as  sombre  and  dingy  as  can 
well  be.  This  entrance-hall  is  not  merely  the  pas 
sageway  into  the  inn,  but  is  likewise  the  carriage- 
house,  into  which  our  vettura  is  wheeled ;  and  it  has, 
on  one  side,  the  stable,  odorous  with  the  litter  of 
horses  and  cattle,  and  on  the  other  the  kitchen,  and  a 
common  sitting-room.  A  narrow  stone  staircase  leads 
from  it  to  the  dining-room,  and  chambers  above,  which 
are  paved  with  brick,  and  adorned  with  rude  frescos 
instead  of  paper-hangings.  \Ye  look  out  of  the 
windows,  and  step  into  a  little  iron-railed  balcony, 
before  the  principal  window,  and  observe  the  scene  in 
the  village  street.  The  street  is  narrow,  and  nothing 
can  exceed  the  tall,  grim  ugliness  of  the  village 
houses,  many  of  them  four  stories  high,  contiguous 
all  along,  and  paved  quite  across ;  so  that  nature  is 


286  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1838. 

as  completely  shut  out  from  the  precincts  of  this  little 
town  as  from  the  heart  of  the  widest  city.  The  walls 
of  the  houses  are  plastered,  gray,  dilapidated;  the 
windows  small,  some  of  them  drearily  closed  with 
wooden  shutters,  others  flung  wide  open,  and  with 
women's  heads  protruding,  others  merely  frescoed, 
for  a  show  of  light  and  air.  It  would  be  a  hideous 
street  to  look  at  in  a  rainy  day,  or  when  no  human 
life  pervaded  it.  Now  it  has  vivacity  enough  to  keep 
it  cheerful.  People  lounge  round  the  door  of  the 
albergo,  and  watch  the  horses  as  they  drink  from  a 
stone  trough,  which  is  built  against  the  wall  of  the 
house,  and  filled  with  the  unseen  gush  of  a  spring. 

At  first  there  is  a  shade  entirely  across  the  street, 
and  all  the  within-doors  of  the  village  empties  itself 
there,  and  keeps  up  a  babblement  that  seems  quite 
disproportioned  even  to  the  multitude  of  tongues 
that  make  it.  So  many  words  are  not  spoken  in 
a  New  England  village  in  a  whole  year  as  here  in 
this  single  day.  People  talk  about  nothing  as  if 
they  were  terribly  in  earnest,  and  laugh  at  nothing 
as  if  it  were  an  excellent  joke. 

As  the  hot  noon  sunshine  encroaches  on  our  side 
of  the  street,  it  grows  a  little  more  quiet.  The 
loungers  now  confine  themselves  to  the  shady  margin 
(growing  narrower  and  narrower)  of  the  other  side, 
where,  directly  opposite  the  albergo,  there  are  two 
cafes  and  a  wine-shop,  "  vendcta  di  pane,  vino,  ed 
nltri  generi,"  all  in  a  row  with  benches  before  them. 
The  benchers  joke  with  the  women  passing  by,  and 
are  joked  with  back  again.  The  sun  still  eats  away 


1853.]  ITALY.  287 

the  shadow  inch  by  inch,  beating  down  with  such 
intensity  that  finally  everybody  disappears  except  a 
few  passers  by. 

Doubtless  the  village  snatches  this  half-hour  for  its 
siesta.  There  is  a  song,  however,  inside  one  of  the 
cafes,  with  a  burden  in  which  several  voices  join. 
A  girl  goes  through  the  street,  sheltered  under  her 
great  bundle  of  freshly  cut  grass.  By  and  by  the 
song  ceases,  and^two  young  peasants  come  out  of  the 
cafe,  a  little  affected  by  liquor,  in  their  shirt-sleeves 
and  bare  feet,  with  their  trousers  tucked  up.  They 
resume  their  song  in  the  street,  and  dance  along,  one's 
arm  around  his  fellow's  neck,  his  own  waist  grasped 
by  the  other's  arm.  They  whirl  one  another  quite 
round  about,  and  come  down  upon  their  feet.  Meet 
ing  a  village  maid  coming  quietly  along,  they  dance 
up  and  intercept  her  for  a  moment,  but  give  way  to 
her  sobriety  of  aspect.  They  pass  on,  and  the  shadow 
soon  begins  to  spread  from  one  side  of  the  street, 
which  presently  fills  again,  and  becomes  once  more, 
for  its  size,  the  noisiest  place  I  ever  knew. 

We  had  quite  a  tolerable  dinner  at  this  ugly  inn, 
where  many  preceding  travellers  had  written  their 
condemnatory  judgments,  as  well  as  a  few  their 
favorable  ones,  in  pencil  on  the  walls  of  the  dining- 
room. 

TO  FLORENCE. 

At  setting  off  [from  Incisa],  we  were  surrounded  by 
beggars  as  usual,  the  rrfost  interesting  of  whom  were  a 
little  blind  boy  and  his  mother,  who  had  besieged  us 


288  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

with  gentle  pertinacity  during  our  -whole  stay  there. 
There  was  likewise  a  man  with  a  maimed  hand,  and 
other  hurts  or  deformities ;  also,  an  old  woman  who, 
I  suspect,  only  pretended  to  be  blind,  keeping  her 
eyes  tightly  squeezed  together,  but  directing  her  hand 
very  accurately  where  the  copper  shower  was  ex 
pected  to  fall.  Besides  these,  there  were  a  good 
many  sturdy  little  rascals,  vociferating  in  proportion 
as  they  needed  nothing.  It  was  touching,  however, 
to  see  several  persons  —  themselves  beggars  for  aught 
I  know  —  assisting  to  hold  up  the  little  blind  boy's 
tremulous  hand,  so  that  he,  at  all  events,  might  no^ 
lack  the  pittance  which  wre  had  to  give.  Our  dole 
was  but  a  poor  one  after  all,  consisting  of  what 
Roman  coppers  we  had  brought  into  Tuscany  with 
us  ;  and  as  we  drove  off,  some  of  the  boys  ran  shout 
ing  and  whining  after  us  in  the  hot  sunshine,  nor 
stopped  till  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  which 
rises  immediately  from  the  village  street.  We  heard 
Gaetano  once  say  a  good  thing  to  a  swarm  of  beggar- 
children,  who  were  infesting  us,  "Are  your  fathers  all 
dead  ?  "  •  —  a  proverbial  expression,  I  suppose.  The 
pertinacity  of  beggars  does  not,  I  think,  excite  the  in 
dignation  of  an  Italian,  as  it  is  apt  to  do  that  of 
Englishmen  or  Americans.  The  Italians  probably 
sympathize  more,  though  they  give  less.  Gaetano  is 
very  gentle  in  his  modes  of  repelling  them,  and, 
indeed,  never  interferes  at  all,  as  long  as  there  is  a 
prospect  of  their  getting  anything. 

Immediately  after  leaving  Incisa,  we  saw  the  Arno, 
already  a  considerable    river,   rushing   between  deep 


1858.]  ITALY.  289 

banks,  with  the  greenish  hue  of  a  duck-pond  diffused 
through  its  water.  Nevertheless,  though  the  first 
impression  was  not  altogether  agreeable,  we  soon 
became  reconciled  to  this  hue,  and  ceased  to  think 
it  an  indication  of  impurity  ;  for,  in  spite  of  it,  the 
river  is  still  to  a  certain  degree  transparent,  and  is, 
at  any  rate,  a  mountain- stream,  and  comes  uncon- 
taminated  from  its  source.  The  pure,  transparent 
brown  of  the  New  England  rivers  is  the  most  beauti 
ful  color ;  but  I  am  content  that  it  should  be  peculiar 
to  them. 

Oar  afternoon's  drive  was  through  scenery  less 
striking  than  some  which  we  had  traversed,  but  still 
picturesque  and  beautiful.  We  saw  deep  valleys  and 
ravines,  with  streams  at  the  bottom ;  long,  wooded 
hillsides,  rising  far  and  high,  and  dotted  with  white 
dwellings,  well  towards  the  summits.  By  and  by, 
we  had  a  distant  glimpse  of  Florence,  showing  its 
great  dome  and  some  of  its  towers  out  of  a  sidelong 
valley,  as  if  we  were  between  two  great  waves  of  the 
tumultuous  sea  of  hills ;  while,  far  beyond,  rose  in 
the  distance  the  blue  peaks  of  three  or  four  of  the 
Apennines,  just  on  the  remote  horizon.  There  being 
a  haziness  in  the  atmosphere,  however,  Florence  was 
little  more  distinct  to  us  than  the  Celestial  City  was 
to  Christian  and  Hopeful,  when  they  spied  at  it  from 
the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Keeping  steadfastly  onward,  we  ascended  a  winding 
road,  and  passed  a  grand  villa,  standing  very  high, 
and  surrounded  with  extensive  grounds.  It  must  be 
the  residence  of  some  great  noble  ;  and  it  has  an 

VOL.  i.  13  s 


290  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

avenue  of  poplars  or  aspens,  very  light  and  gay,  and 
fit  for  the  passage  of  the  bridal  procession,  when  the 
proprietor  or  his  heir  brings  home  his  bride  ;  while,  in 
another  direction  from  the  same  front  of  the  palace, 
stretches  an  avenue  or  grove  of  cypresses,  very  long, 
and  exceedingly  black  and  dismal,  like  a  train  of  gigan 
tic  mourners.  I  have  seen  few  things  more  striking, 
in  the  way  of  trees,  than  this  grove  of  cypresses. 

From  this  point .  we  descended,  and  drove  along  ail 
ugly,  dusty  avenue,  with  a  high  brick-wall  on  one 
side  or  both,  till  we  reached  the  gate  of  Florence, 
into  which  we  were  admitted  with  as  little  trouble  as 
custom-house  officers,  soldiers,  and  policemen  can 
possibly  give.  They  did  not  examine  our  luggage, 
and  even  declined  a  fee,  as  we  had  already  paid  one  at 
the  frontier  custom-house.  Thank  heaven,  and  the 
Grand  Duke  ! 

As  we  hoped  that  the  Casa  del  Bello  had  been  taken, 
for  us,  we  drove  thither  in  the  first  place,  but  found 
that  the  bargain  had  not  been  concluded.  As  the 
house  and  studio  of  Mr.  Powers  were  just  on  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  street,  I  went  to  it,  but  found  him  too 
much  engrossed  to  see  me  at  the  moment ;  so  I  re 
turned  to  the  vettura,  and  we  told  Gactano  to  cany 
us  to  a  hotel.  He  established  us  at  the  Albergo  della 

Fontana,  a  good  and  comfortable    house Mr. 

Powers  called  in  the  evening,  —  a  plain  personage, 
characterized  by  strong  simplicity  and  warm  kindli 
ness,  with  an  impending  ^brow,  and  large  eyes,  which 
kindle  as  he  speaks.  He  is  gray,  and  slightly  bald, 
but  does  not  seam  elderly,  nor  past  his  prime.  I  ac- 


1858.]  ITALY.  291 

cept  him  at  once  as  an  honest  and  trustworthy  man, 
and  shall  not  vary  from  this  judgment.  Through  his 
good  offices,  the  next  day,  \ve  engaged  the  Casa  del 
Bello,  at  a  rent  of  fifty  dollars  a  month,  and  I  shall 
take  another  opportunity  (my  fingers  and  head  being 
tired  now)  to  write  about  the  house,  and  Mr.  Powers, 
and  what  appertains  to  him,  and  about  the  beautiful 
city  of  Florence.  At  present,  I  shall  only  say  further, 
that  this  journey  from  Rome  has  been  one  of  the 
brightest  and  most  uncareful  interludes  of  my  life  ;  we 
have  all  enjoyed  it  exceedingly,  and  I  am  happy  that 
our  children  have  it  to  look  back  upon. 

June  ±th.  —  At  our  visit  to  Powers's  studio  on  Tues 
day,  we  saw  a  marble  copy  of  the  fisher-boy  holding  a 
shell  to  his  ear,  and  the  bust  of  Proserpine,  and  two  or 
three  other  ideal  busts ;  various  casts  of  most  of  the 
ideal  statues  and  portrait  busts  which  he  has  executed. 
He  talks  very  freely  about  his  works,  and  is  no  excep 
tion  to  the  rule  that  an  artist  is  not  apt  to  speak  in  a 
very  laudatory  style  of  a  brother  artist.  He  showed 
us  a  bust  of  Mr.  Sparks  by  Persico,  —  a  lifeless  and 
thoughtless  thing  enough,  to  be  sure,  —  and  compared 
it  with  a  very  good  one  of  the  same  gentleman  by 
himself;  but  his  chiefest  scorn  was  bestowed  on  a 
wretched  and  ridiculous  image  of  Mr.  King,  of  Ala 
bama,  by  Clarke  Mills,  of  which  he  said  he  had  been 
employed  to  make  several  copies  for  Southern  gentle 
men.  The  consciousness  of  power  is  plainly  to  be 
seen,  and  the  assertion  of  it  by  no  means  withheld,  in 
his  simple  and  natural  character  ;  nor  does  it  give  me 
an  idea' of  vanity  on  his  part  to  see  and  hear  it.  Ho 


292  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

appears  to  consider  himself  neglected  by  his  country,  — 
by  the  government  of  it,  at  least,  —  and  talks  with 
indignation  of  the  byways  and  political  intrigue  which, 
he  thinks,  win  the  rewards  that  ought  to  be  bestowed 
exclusively  on  merit.  An  appropriation  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  was  made,  some  years  ago,  for  a  work 
of  sculpture  by  him,  to  be  placed  in  the  Capitol  j  but 
the  intermediate  measures  necessary  to  render  it 
effective  have  been  delayed ;  while  the  above-men 
tioned  Clarke  Mill  —  certainly  the  greatest  bungler 
that  ever  botched  a  block  of  marble  —  has  received  an 
order  for  an  equestrian  statue  of  Washington.  Not 
that  Mr.  Powers  is  made  bitter  or  sour  by  these 
•wrongs,  as  he  considers  them ;  he  talks  of  them  with 
the  frankness  of  his  disposition  when  the  topic  comes 
in  his  way,  and  is  pleasant,  kindly,  and  sunny  when 
he  has  done  with  it. 

His  long  absence  from  our  country  has  made  him 
think  worse  of  us  than  we  deserve ;  and  it  is  an  effect 
of  what  I  myself  am  sensible,  in  my  shorter  exile : 
the  most  piercing  shriek,  the  wildest  yell,  and  all  the 
ugly  sounds  of  popular  turmoil,  inseparable  from  the 
life  of  a  republic,  being  a  million  times  more  audible 
than  the  peaceful  hum  of  prosperity  and  content 
which  is  going  on  all  the  while. 

He  talks  of  going  home,  but  says  that  he  has  been 
talking  of  it  every  year  since  he  first  came  to  Italy ; 
and  between  his  pleasant  life  of  congenial  labor,  and 
his  idea  of  moral  deterioration  in  America,,  I  think  it 
doubtful  whether  he  ever  crosses  the  sea  again.  Like 
most  exiles  of  twenty  years,  he  has  lost  his  native 


1858.]  ITALY.  293 

country  without  finding  another;  but  then  it  is 
as  well  to  recognize  the  truth, — that  an  individ 
ual  country  is  by  no  means  essential  to  one's  com 
fort, 

Powers  took  us  into  the  farthest  room,  I  believe,  of 
his  very  extensive  studio,  and  showed  us  a  statue  of 
Washington  that  has  much  dignity  and  stateliness. 
He  expressed,  however,  great  contempt  for  the  coat 
and  breeches,  and  masonic  emblems,  in  which  he  had 
been  required  to  drape  the  figure.  What  would  he 
do  with  Washington,  the  most  decorous  and  respec 
table  personage  that  ever  went  ceremoniously  through 
the  realities  of  life  1  Did  anybody  ever  see  Washing 
ton  nude  1  It  is  inconceivable.  He  had  no  naked 
ness,  but  I  imagine  he  was  born  with  his  clothes  on, 
and  his  hair  powdered,  and  made  a  stately  bow  on  his 
first  appearance  in  the  world.  His  costume,  at  all 
events,  was  a  part  of  his  character,  and  must  be  dealt 
with  by  whatever  sculptor  undertakes  to  represent 
him.  I  wonder  that  so  very  sensible  a  man  as  Powers 
should  not  see  the  necessity  of  accepting  drapery,  and 
the  very  drapery  of  the  day,  if  he  will  keep  his  art 
alive.  It  is  his  business  to  idealize  the  tailor's  actual 
work.  But  he  seems  to  be  especially  fond  of  nudity, 
none  of  his  ideal  statues,  so  far  as  I  know  them,  hav 
ing  so  much  as  a  rag  of  clothes.  His  statue  of  Cali 
fornia,  lately  finished,  and  as  naked  as  Venus,  seemed 
to  me  a  very  good  work ;  not  an  actual  woman,  capa 
ble  of  exciting  passion,  but  evidently  a  little  out  of 
the  category  of  human  nature.  In  one  hand  she  holds 
a  divining  rod.  "  She  says  to  the  emigrants,"  observed 


294  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Powers,  "  '  Here  is  the  gold,  if  you  choose  to  take  it.'  " 
But  in  her  face,  and  in  her  eyes,  very  finely  expressed, 
there  is  a  look  of  latent  mischief,  rather  grave  than 
playful,  yet  somewhat  impish  or  sprite-like  ;  and,  in 
the  other  hand,  behind  her  back,  she  holds  a  bunch  of 
thorns.  Powers  calls  her  eyes  Indian.  The  statue  is 
true  to  the  present  fact  and  history  of  California,  and 
includes  the  age-long  truth  as  respects  the  "  auri  sacra 
fames."  .... 

When  we  had  looked  sufficiently  at  the  sculpture, 
Powers  proposed  that  we  should  now  go  across  the 
street  and  see  the  Casa  del  Bello.  We  did  so  in  a 
body,  Powers  in  his  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and 
his  wife  and  daughters  without  assuming  any  street 
costume. 

The  Casa  del  Bello  is  a  palace  of  three  pianos,  the 
topmost  of  which  is  occupied  by  the  Countess  of  St. 
George,  an  English  lady,  and  two  lower  pianos  are  to 
be  let,  and  we  looked  at  both.  The  upper  one  would 
have  suited  me  well  enough ;  but  the  lower  has  a 
terrace,  with  a  rustic  sumhier-house  over  it,  and  is 
connected  with  a  garden,  where  there  are  arbors  and 
a  willow-tree,  and  a  little  wilderness  of  shrubbery  and 
roses,  with  a  fountain  in  the  midst.  It  has  likewise 
an  immense  suite  of  rooms,  round  the  four  sides  of  a 
small  court,  spacious,  lofty,  with  frescoed  ceilings  and 
rich  hangings,  and  abundantly  furnished  with  arm 
chairs,  sofas,  marble  tables,  and  great  looking-glasses. 
Not  that  these  last  arc  a  great  temptatiou,  but  in  our 
wandering  life  I  wished  to  be  perfectly  comfortable 
myself,  and  to  make  my  family  so,  for  just  this  sum- 


1858.]  ITALY.  295 

mer,  and  so  I  have  taken  the  lower  piano,  the  price 
being  only  fifty  dollars  per  month  (entirely  furnished, 
even  to  silver  and  linen).  Certainly  this  is  something 
like  the  paradise  of  cheapness  we  were  told  of,  and 
which  we  vainly  sought  in  Rome 

To  me  has  been  assigned  the  pleasantest  room  for 
my  study ;  and  when  I  like  I  can  overflow  into  the 
summer-house  or  an  arbor,  and  sit  there  dreaming 
of  a  story.  The  weather  is  delightful,  too  warm  to 
walk,  but  perfectly  fit  to  do  nothing  in,  in  the  cool 
ness  of  these  great  rooms.  Every  day  I  shall  write  a 
little,  perhaps,  —  and  probably  take  a  brief  nap  some 
where  between  breakfast  and  tea,  —  but  go  to  see 
pictures  and  statues  occasionally,  and  so  assuage  and 
mollify  myself  a  little  after  that  uncongenial  life  of 
the  consulate,  and  before  going  back  to  my  own  hard 
and  dusty  New  England. 

After  concluding  the  arrangement  for  the  Casa  del 
Bello,  we  stood  talking  a  little  while  with  Powers  and 
his  wife  and  daughter  before  the  door  of  the  house,  for 
they  seem  so  far  to  have  adopted  the  habits  of  the 
Florentines  as  to  feel  themselves  at  home  on  the 
shady  side  of  the  street.  The  out-of-door  life  and  free 
communication  with  the  pavement,  habitual  apparently 
among  the  middle  classes,  reminds  me  of  the  plays  of 
Moliere  and  other  old  dramatists,  in  which  the  street 
or  the  square  becomes  a  sort  of  common  parlor,  where- 
most  of  the  talk  and  scenic  business  of  the  people  is 
carried  on. 

June  5tk.  —  For  two*  or  three  mornings  after  break- 
fact  I  have  rambled  a  little  about  the  city  till  tho 


296  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

shade  grew  narrow  beneath  the  walls  of  the  houses, 
and  the  heat  made  it  uncomfortable  to  be  in  motion. 
To-day  I  went  over  the  Ponte  Carraja,  and  thenco 
into  and  through  the  heart  of  the  city,  looking  into 
several  churches,  in  all  of  which  I  found  people  taking 
advantage  of  the  cool  breadth  of  these  sacred  interiors 
to  refresh  themselves  and  say  their  prayers.  Florence 
at  first  struck  me  as  having  the  aspect  of  a  very 
new  city  in  comparison  with  Rome  ;  but,  on  closer 
acquaintance,  I  find  that  many  of  the  buildings  are 
antique  and  massive,  though  still  the  clear  atmos 
phere,  the  bright  sunshine,  the  light,  cheerful  hues 
of  the  stucco,  and — as  much  as  anything  else,  perhaps 
—  the  vivacious  character  of  the  human  life  in  tho 
streets,  take  away  the  sense  of  its  being  an  ancient 
city.  The  streets  are  delightful  to  walk  in  after  so 
many  penitential  pilgrimages  as  I  have  made  over 
those  little  square,  uneven  blocks  of  the  Roman  pave 
ment,  which  wear  out  the  boots  and  torment  the  soul. 
I  absolutely  walk  on  the  smooth  flags  of  Florence  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  walking,  and  live  in  its  atmos 
phere  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  living;  and,  warm 
as  the  weather  is  getting  to  be,  I  never  feel  that 
inclination  to  sink  down  in  a  heap  and  never  stir 
again,  which  was  my  dull  torment  and  misery  as  long 
as  I  stayed  in  Rome.  I  hardly  think  there  can  be  a 
place  in  the  world  where  life  is  more  delicious  for  its 
own  simple  sake  than  here. 

I  went  to-day  into  the  Baptistery,  wliich  stands 
near  the  Duomo,  and,  like  that,  is  covered  externally 
with  slabs  of  black  and  white  marble,  now  grown 


1858.]  ITALY.  297 

brown  and  yellow  with  age.  The  edifice  is  octagonal, 
and  on  entering,  one  immediately  thinks  of  the  Pan 
theon,  —  the  whole  space  within  being  free  from  side 
to  side,  with  a  dome  above  ;  but  it  differs  from  the 
severe  simplicity  of  the  former  edifice,  being  elabo 
rately  ornamented  with  marble  and  frescos,  and  lack 
ing  that  great  eye  in  the  roof  that  looks  so  nobly  and 
reverently  heavenward  from  the  Pantheon.  I  did  lit 
tle  more  than  pass  through  the  Baptistery,  glancing 
at  the  famous  bronze  doors,  some  perfect  and  admira 
ble  casts  of  which  I  had  already  seen  at  the  Crystal 
Palace. 

The  entrance  of  the  Duomo  being  just  across  the 
piazza,  I  went  in  there  after  leaving  the  Baptistery, 
and  was  struck  anew  —  for  this  is  the  third  or  fourth 
visit  —  with  the  dim  grandeur  of  the  interior,  lighted 
as  it  is  almost  exclusively  by  painted  windows,  which 
seem  to  me  worth  all  the  variegated  marbles  and  rich 
cabinet-work  of  St.  Peter's.  The  Florentine  Cathe 
dral  has  a  spacious  and  lofty  nave,  and  side-aisles 
divided  from  it  by  pillars  ;  but  there  are  no  chapels 
along  the  aisles,  so  that  there  is  far  more  breadth 
and  freedom  of  interior,  in  proportion  to  the  actual 
space,  than  is  usual  in  churches.  It  is  woful  to  think 
how  the  vast  capaciousness  within  St.  Peter's  is 
thrown  away,  and  made  to  seem  smaller  than  it  is 
by  every  possible  device, .  as  if  on  purpose.  The 
pillars  and  walls  of  this  Duomo  are  of  a  uniform 
brownish,  neutral  tint  ;  the  pavement,  a  mosaic  work 
of  marble ;  the  ceiling  of  the  dome  itself  is  covered 
with  frescos,  which,  being  very  imperfectly  lighted,  it 
13* 


298  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

is  impossible  to  trace  out.  Indeed,  it  is  but  a  twilight 
region  that  is  enclosed  within  the  firmament  of  this 
great  dome,  which  is  actually  larger  than  that  of  St. 
Peter's,  though  not  lifted  so  high  from  the  pavement. 
But  looking  at  the  painted  windows,  I  little  cared 
what  dimness  there  might  be  elsewhere ;  for  certainly 
the  art  of  man  has  never  contrived  any  other  beauty 
and  glory  at  all  to  be  compared  to  this. 

The  dome  sits,  as  it  were,  upon  three  smaller 
domes,  —  smaller,  but  still  great,  —  beneath  which  are 
three  vast  niches,  forming  the  transepts  of  the  Cathe 
dral  and  the  tribune  behind  the  high  altar.  All 
round  these  hollow,  dome-covered  arches  or  niches, 
are  high  and  narrow  windows  crowded  with  saints, 
angels,  and  all  manner  of  blessed  shapes,  that  turn 
the  common  daylight  into  a  miracle  of  richness  and 
splendor  as  it  passes  through  their  heavenly  substance. 
And  just  beneath  the  swell  of  the  great  central  domo 
is  a  wreath  of  circular  windows  quite  round  it,  as 
brilliant  as  the  tall  and  narrow  ones  below.  It  is  a 
pity  anybody  should  die  without  seeing  an  antique 
painted  \vindow,  with  tho  bright  Italian  sunshine 
glowing  through  it.  This  is  "  the  dim,  religious 
light"  that  Milton  speaks  of;  but  I  doubt  whether 
he  saw  these  windows  when  he  was  in  Italy,  or  any 
hut  those  faded  or  dusty  and  dingy  ones  of  the  Eng 
lish  cathedrals,  else  he  would  have  illuminated  that 
word  "  dim  "  with  some  epithet  that  should  not  chase 
away  the  dimness,  yet  should  make  it  shine  like  a 
million  of  rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds,  and  topazes,  — • 
bright  in  themselves,  but  dim  with  tenderness  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  299 

reverence  because   God  himself  was  shining  through 
them.     I  hate  what  I  have  said. 

All  the  time  that  I  was  in  the  Cathedral  the  space 
around  the  high  altar,  which  stands  exactly  under 
the  dome,  was  occupied  by  priests  or  acolytes  in 
white  garments,  chanting  a  religious  service. 

After  coming  out,  I  took  a  view  of  the  edifice  from 
a  corner  of  the  street  nearest  to  the  dome,  where  it 
and  the  smaller  domes  can  be  seen  at  once.  It  is 
greatly  more  satisfactory  than  St.  Peter's  in  any  view 
I  ever  had  of  it,  —  striking  in  its  outline,  with  a 
mystery,  yet  not  a  bewilderment,  in  its  masses  and 
curves  and  angles,  and  wrought  out  with  a  richness 
of  detail  that  gives  the  eyes  new  arches,  new  galleries, 
new  niches,  new  pinnacles,  new  beauties,  great  and 
small,  to  play  with  when  wearied  with  the  vast  whole. 
The  hue,  black  and  white  marbles,  like  the  Baptistery, 
turned  also  yellow  and  brown,  is  greatly  preferable  to 
the  buff  travertine  of  St.  Peter's. 

From  the  Duomo  it  is  but  a  moderate  street's 
length  to  the  Piazza  del  Gran  Duca,  the  principal 
square  of  Florence.  It  is  a  very  interesting  place, 
and  has  on  one  side  the  old  Governmental  Palace,  — 
the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  —  where  many  scenes  of  historic 
interest  have  been  enacted ;  for  example,  conspir 
ators  have  been  hanged  from  its  windows,  or  pre 
cipitated  from  them  upon  the  pavement  of  the  square 
below. 

It  is  a  pity  that  we  cannot  take  as  much  interest 
in  the  history  of  these  Italian  Pvepublics  as  in.  that  of 
England,  for  the  former  is  much  the  more  picturesque 


300  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

and  fuller  of  curious  incident.  The  sobriety  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race  —  in  connection,  too,  with  their 
moral  sense  —  keeps  them  from  doing  a  great  many 
things  that  would  enliven  the  page  of  history;  and 
their  events  seem  to  come  in  great  masses,  shoved 
along  by  the  agency  of  many  persons,  rather  than  to 
result  from  individual  will  and  character.  A  hundred 
plots  for  a  tragedy  might  be  found  in  Florentine 
history  for  one  in  English. 

At  one  corner  of  the  Palazzo  Yecchio  is  a  bronze 
equestrian  statue  of  Cosmo  di  Medici,  the  first  Grand 
Duke,  very  stately  and  majestic;  there  are  other 
marble  statues  —  one  of  David,  by  Michael  Angelo  — 
at  each  side  of  the  palace  door;  and  entering  the 
court  I  found  a  rich  antique  arcade  within,  surrounded 
by  marble  pillars,  most  elaborately  carved,  support 
ing  arches  that  were  covered  with  faded  frescos. 
I  went  no  farther,  but  stepped  across  a  little  space  of 
the  square  to  the  Loggio  di  Lanzi,  which  is  broad 
and  noble,  of  three  vast  arches,  at  the  end  of  which, 
I  take  it,  is  a  part  of  the  Palazzo  Uffizzi  fronting  on 
the  piazza.  I  should  call  it  a  portico  if  it  stood 
before  the  palace  door;  but  it  seems  to  have  been 
constructed  merely  for  itself,  and  as  a  shelter  for 
the  people  from  sun  and  rain,  and  to  contain  some 
fine  specimens  of  sculpture,  as  well  antique  as  of 
more  modern  times.  Benvenuto  Cellini's  Perseus 
stands  here  ;  but  it  did  not  strike  me  so  much  as  the 
cast  of  it  in  the  Crystal  Palace. 

A  good  many  people  were  under  these  great  arches ; 
some  of  whom  were  reclining,  half  or  quite  asleep,  on 


1858.]  ITALY.  301 

the  marble  seats  that  are  built  against  the  back  of  the 
loggia.  A  group  was  reading  an  edict  of  the  Grand 
Duke,  which  appeared  to  have  been  just  posted  on  a 
board,  at  the  farther  end  of  it ;  and  I  was  surprised 
at  the  interest  which  they  ventured  to  manifest,  and 
the  freedom  with  which  they  seemed  to  discuss  it. 
A  soldier  was  on  guard,  and  doubtless  there  were 
spies  enough  to  carry  every  word  that  was  said  to 
the  ear  of  absolute  authority.  Glancing  myself  at  the 
edict,  however,  I  found  it  referred  only  to  the  further 
ance  of  a  project,  got  up  among  the  citizens  them 
selves,  for  bringing  water  into  the  city ;  and  on  such 
topics,  I  suppose  there  is  freedom  of  discussion. 

June  1th.  —  Saturday  evening  we  walked  with  U • 

and  J into  the  city,  and  looked  at  the  exterior  of 

the  Duomo  with  new  admiration.  Since  my  former 
view  of  it,  I  have  noticed  —  which,  strangely  enough, 
did  not  strike  me  before  —  that  the  fa$ade  is  but  a 
great,  bare,  ugly  space,  roughly  plastered  over,  with 
the  brickwork  peeping  through  it  in  spots,  and  a 
faint,  almost  invisible  fresco  of  colors  upon  it.  This 
front  was  once  nearly  finished  with  an  incrustation  of 
black  and  white  marble,  like  the  rest  of  the  edifice ; 
but  one  of  the  city  magistrates,  Benedetto  Uguacione, 
demolished  it,  three  hundred  years  ago,  with  the  idea 
of  building  it  again  in  better  style.  He  failed  to  do 
so,  arid  ever  since,  the  magnificence  of  the  great 
church  has  been  marred  by  this  unsightly  roughness 
of  what  should  have  been  its  richest  part ;  nor  is 
there,  I  suppose,  any  hope  that  it  will  ever  be  finished 
now. 


302  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

The  campanile,  or  bell-tower,  stands  within  a  few 
paces  of  the  Cathedral,  but  entirely  disconnected  from 
it,  rising  to  a  height  of  nearly  three  hundred  feet,  a 
square  tower  of  light  marbles,  now  discolored  by 
time.  It  is  impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  the  richness 
of  effect  produced  by  its  elaborate  finish ;  the  whole 
surface  of  the  four  sides,  from  top  to  bottom,  being 
decorated  with  all  manner  of  statuesque  and  architec 
tural  sculpture.  It  is  like  a  toy  of  ivory,  which  some 
ingenious  and  pious  monk  might  have  spent  his 
lifetime  in  adorning  with  scriptural  designs  and 
figures  of  saints;  and  when  it  was  finished,  seeing 
it  so  beautiful,  he  prayed  that  it  might  be  mirac 
ulously  magnified  from  the  size  of  one  foot  to  that 
of  three  hundred.  This  idea  somewhat  satisfies  me, 
as  conveying  an  impression  how  gigantesque  the 
campanile  is  in  its  mass  and  height,  and  how  minute 
and  varied  in  its  detail.  -Surely  these  mediaeval 
•works  have  an  advantage  over  the  classic.  They 
combine  the  telescope  and  the  microscope. 

The  city  was  all  alive  in  the  summer  evening,  and 
the  streets  humming  with  voices.  Before  the  doors 
of  the  cafes  were  tables,  at  which  people  were  taking 
refreshment,  and  it  went  to  my  heart  to  see  a  bottle 
of  English  ale,  some  of  which  was  poured  foaming 
into  a  glass ;  at  least  it  had  exactly  the  amber  hue 
and  the  foam  of  English  bitter  ale ;  but  perhaps  it 
may  have  been  merely  a  Florentine  imitation. 

As  we  returned  home  over  the  Arno,  ciossing  the 
Ponte  di  Santa  Trinita,  we  were  struck  by  the  beau 
tiful  scene  of  the  broad,  calm  river,  with  the  palaces 


1858.]  ITALY.  303 

along  its  shores  repeated  in  it,  on  either  side,  and  the 
neighboring  bridges,  too,  just  as  perfect  in  the  tide 
beneath  as  in  the  air  above,  —  a  city  of  dream  and 
shadow  so  close  to  the  actual  one.  God  has  a  mean 
ing,  no  doubt,  in  putting  this  spiritual  symbol  con 
tinually  beside  us. 

Along  the  river,  on  both  sides,  as  far  as  we  could 
see,  there  was  a  row  of  brilliant  lamps,  which,  in  the 
far  distance,  looked  like  a  cornice  of  golden  light;  and 
this  also  shone  as  brightly  in  the  river's  depths.  The 
hues  of  the  evening,  in  the  quarter  where  the  sun  had 
gone  down,  were  very  soft  and  beautiful,  though  not 
so  gorgeous  as  thousands  that  I  have  seen  in  America. 
But  I  believe  I  must  fairly  confess  that  the  Italian 
sky,  in  the  daytime,  is  bluer  and  brighter  than  our 
own,  and  that  the  atmosphere  has  a  quality  of  showing 
objects  to  better  advantage.  It  is  more  than  mere 
daylight;  the  magic  of  moonlight  is  somehow  mixed 
up  with  it,  although  it  is  so  transparent  a  medium  of 
light. 

Last  evening,  Mr.  Powers  called  to  see  us,  and  sat 
down  to  talk  in  a  friendly  and  familiar  way.  I  do  not 
know  a  man  of  more  facile  intercourse,  nor  with  whom 
one  so  easily  gets  rid  of  ceremony.  His  conversation, 
too,  is  interesting.  He  talked,  to  begin  with,  about 
Italian  food,  as  poultry,  mutton,  beef,  and  their  lack 
of  savoriness  as  compared  with  our  own;  and  men 
tioned  an  exquisite  dish  of  vegetables  which  they 
prepare  from  squash  or  pumpkin  blossoms;  likewise 
another  dish,  which  it  tvill  be  well  for  us  to  remember 
when  we  get  back  to  the  Wayside,  where  we  are  over- 


304  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

run  with  acacias.  It  consists  of  the  acacia-blossoms 
in  a  certain  stage  of  their  development  fried  in  olive-oil. 
I  shall  get  the  receipt  from  Mrs.  Powers,  and  mean  to 
deserve  well  of  my  country  by  first  trying  it,  and  then 
making  it  known ;  only  I  doubt  whether  American 
lard,  or  even  butter,  will  produce  the  dish  quite  s<? 
delicately  as  fresh  Florence  oil. 

Meanwhile,  I  like  Powers  all  the  better,  because  he 
does  not  put  his  life  wholly  into  marble.  We  had 
much  talk,  nevertheless,  on  matters  of  sculpture,  for 
he  drank  a  cup  of  tea  with  us,  and  stayed  a  good 
while. 

He  passed  a  condemnatory  sentence  on  classic  busts 
in  general,  saying  that  they  were  conventional,  and  not 
to  be  depended  upon  as  true  representations  of  the 
persons.  He  particularly  excepted  none  but  the  bust 
of  Caracalla  ;  and,  indeed,  everybody  that  has  seen  this 
bust  must  feel  the  justice  of  the  exception,  and  so  bo 
the  more  inclined  to  accept  his  opinion  about  the  rest. 
There  are  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  —  that  of  Cato 
the  Censor  among  the  others  —  in  regard  to  which  I 
should  like  to  ask  his  judgment  individually.  Ho 
seems  to  think  the  faculty  of  making  a  bust  an  ex 
tremely  rare  one.  Canova  put  his  own  likeness  into 
all  the  busts  he  made.  Greenough  could  not  make  a 
good  one ;  nor  Crawford,  nor  Gibson.  Mr.  Harte,  ho 
observed,  —  an  American  sculptor,  now  a  resident  in 
Florence,  —  is  the  best  man  of  the  day  for  making 
busts.  Of  course,  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  he  excepts 
himself;  but  I  would  not  do  Powers  the  gretit  injustice 
to  imply  that  there  is  the  slightest  professional  jeal- 


1858.]  ITALY.  305 

ousy  in  his  estimate  of  what  others  have  done,  or  are 
now  doing,  in  his  own  art.  If  he  saw  a  better  man 
than  himself,  he  would  recognize  him  at  once,  and  tell 
the  world  of  him ;  but  he  knows  well  enough  that,  in 
this  line,  there  is  no  better,  and  probably  none  so 
good.  It  would  not  accord  with  the  simplicity  of  his 
character  to  blink  a  fact  that  stands  so  broadly  be 
fore  him. 

We  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  Mr.  Gibson's 
practice  of  coloring  his  statues,  and  he  quietly  and 
slyly  said  that  he  himself  had  made  wax  figures  in 
his  earlier  days,  but  had  left  off  making  them  now. 
In  short,  he  objected  to  the  practice  wholly,  and  said 
that  a  letter  of  his  on  the  subject  had  been  published 
in  the  London  "Athenaeum,"  and  had  given  great  offence 
to  some  of  Mr.  Gibson's  friends.  It  appeared  to  me, 
however,  that  his  arguments  did  not  apply  quite 
fairly  to  the  case,  for  he  seems  to  think  Gibson  aims 
at  producing  an  illusion  of  life  in  the  statue,  whereas 
I  think  his  object  is  merely  to  give  warmth  and 
softness  to  the  snowy  marble,  and  sp  bring  it  a  little 
nearer  to  our  hearts  and  sympathies.  Even  so  far, 
nevertheless,  I  doubt  whether  the  practice  is  de 
fensible,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  that  Powers  scorned, 
at  all  events,  the  argument  drawn  from  the  use  of 
color  by  the  antique  sculptors,  on  which  Gibson 
relies  so  much.  It  might  almost  be  implied,  from 
the  contemptuous  way  in  which  Powers  spoke  of 
color,  that  he  considers  it  an  impertinence  on  the 
face  of  visible  nature,  *and  would  rather  the  world 
laad  been  made  without  it ;  for  he  said  that  every- 

T 


30G  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

thing  in  intellect  or  feeling  can  be  expressed  as  per 
fectly,  or  more  so,  by  the  sculptor  in  colorless 
marble,  as  by  the  painter  with  all  the  resources  of 
his  palette.  I  asked  him  whether  he  could  model 
the  face  of  Beatrice  Cenci  from  Guide's  picture  so  as 
to  retain  the  subtle  expression,  and  he  said  he  could, 
for  that  the  expression  depended  entirely  on  the 
drawing,  "the  picture  being  a  badly  colored  thing." 
I  inquired  whether  he  could  model  a  blush,  and  he 
said  "  Yes  "  j  and  that  he  had  once  proposed  to  an 
artist  to  express  a  blush  in  marble,  if  he  would  ex 
press  it  in  picture.  On  consideration,  I  believe  one 
to  be  as  impossible  as  the  other ;  the  life  and  reality 
of  the  blush  being  in  its  tremulousness,  coming  and 
going.  It  is  lost  in  a  settled  red  just  as  much  as  in  a 
settled  paleness,  and  neither  the  sculptor  nor  painter 
can  do  more  than  represent  the  circumstances  of 
attitude  and  expression  that  accompany  the  blush. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  Powers  said 
about  this  matter  of  color,  and  in  one  of  our  inter 
minable  New  England  winters  it  ought  to  comfort 
us  to  think  how  little  necessity  there  is  for  any  hue 
but  that  of  the  snow. 

Mr.  Powers,  nevertheless,  had  brought  us  a  bunch 
of  beautiful  roses,  and  seemed  as  capable  of  appre 
ciating  their  delicate  blush  as  we  were.  The  best 
thing  he  said  against  the  use  of  color  in  marble 
was  to  the  effect  that  the  whiteness  removed  the  ob 
ject  represented  into  a  sort  of  spiritual  region,  and  so 
gave  chaste  permission  to  those  nudities  which  would 
otherwise  suggest  immodesty.  I  have  myself  felt  the 


1838.]  ITALY.  307 

truth  of  this  in  a  certain  sense  of  shame  as  I  looked 
at  Gibson's  tinted  Venus. 

He  took  his  leave  at  about  eight  o'clock,  being  to 
make  a  call  on  the  Bryants,  who  are  at  the  Hotel  de 
New  York,  and  also  on  Mrs.  Browning,  at  Casa 
Guidi. 


END   OP   VOL.    I. 


See  page  215. 


PASSAGES 


FROM 


HAWTHORNE'S  NOTE-BOOKS  IN  FRANCE 
AND  ITALY. 


FLORENCE  —  continued. 

June  8th.  —  I  went  this  morning  to  the  Uffizzi 
gallery.  The  entrance  is  from  the  great  court  of  the 
palace,  which  communicates  with  Lung'  Arno  at  one 
end,  and  with  the  Grand  Ducal  Piazza  at  the  other. 
The  gallery  is  in  the  upper  story  of  the  palace,  and 
in  the  vestibule  are  some  busts  of  the  princes  and 
cardinals  of  the  Medici  family,  —  none  of  them  beau 
tiful,  one  or  two  so  ugly  as  to  be  ludicrous,  especially 
one  who  is  all  but  buried  in  his  own  wig.  I  at  first 
travelled  slowly  through  the  whole  extent  of  this 
long,  long  gallery,  which  occupies  the  entire  length 
of  the  palace  on  both  sides  of  the  court,  and  is  full 
of  sculpture  and  pictures.  The  latter,  being  opposite 
to  the  light,  are  not  seen  to  the  best  advantage  ;  but 
it  is  the  most  perfect  collection,  in  a  chronological 
series,  that  I  have  seen,  comprehending  specimens  of 
all  the  masters  since  painting  began  to  be  an  art. 
Here  are  Giotto,  and  Cimabue,  and  Botticelli,  and 
Fra  Angelico,  and  Fitippo  Lippi,  and  a  hundred 

VOL.  II.  1  A 


2  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

others,  who  have  haunted  me  in  churches  and  gal 
leries  ever  since  I  have  been  in  Italy,  and  who  ought 
to  interest  me  a  great  deal  more  than  they  do.  Occa 
sionally  to-day  I  was  sensible  of  a  certain  degree  of 
emotion  in  looking  at  an  old  picture  ;  as,  for  example, 
by  a  large,  dark,  ugly  picture  of  Christ  bearing  the 
cross  and  sinking  beneath  it,  when,  somehow  or  other, 
a  sense  of  his  agony  and  the  fearful  wrong  that  man 
kind  did  (and  does)  its  Kedeemer,  and  the  scorn  of  his 
enemies,  and  the  sorrow  of  those  who  loved  him,  came 
knocking  at  my  heart  and  got  entrance  there.  Once 
more  I  deem  it  a  pity  that  Protestantism  should  have 
entirely  laid  aside  this  mode  of  appealing  to  the  re 
ligious  sentiment. 

I  chiefly  paid  attention  to  the  sculpture,  and  was 
interested  in  a  long  series  of  busts  of  the  emperors 
and  the  members  of  their  families,  and  some  of  the 
great  men  of  Eome.  There  is  a  bust  of  Pompey  the 
Great,  bearing  not'  the  slightest  resemblance  to  that 
vulgar  and  unintellectual  one  in  the  gallery  of  the 
Capitol,  altogether  a  different  cast  of  countenance. 
I  could  not  judge  whether  it  resembled  the  face  of 
the  statue,  having  seen  the  latter  so  imperfectly  in 
the  duskiness  of  the  hall  of  the  Spada  Palace.  These, 
I  presume,  are  the  busts  which  Mr.  Powers  con 
demns,  from  internal  evidence,  as  unreliable  and 
conventional.  He  may  be  right,  —  and  is  far  more 
likely,  of  course,  to  be  right  than  I  am,  —  yet  there 
certainly  seems  to  be  character  in  these  marble  faces, 
and  they  differ  as  much  among  themselves  as  the 
same  number  of  living  faces  might.  The  bust  of 


1858.]  ITALY. 

Caracalla,  however,  which  Powers  excepted  from  his 
censure,  certainly  does  give  stronger  assurance  of  its 
being  an  individual  and  faithful  portrait  than  any 
other  in  the  series.  All  the  busts  of  Caracalla  —  of 
which  I  have  seen  many  —  give  the  same  evidence  of 
their  truth;  and  I  should  like  to  know  what  it  was 
in  this  abominable  emperor  that  made  him  insist 
upon  having  his  actual  likeness  perpetrated,  with 
all  the  ugliness  of  its  animal  and  moral  character.  I 
rather  respect  him  for  it,  and  still  more  the  sculptor, 
whose  hand,  methinks,  must  have  trembled  as  he 
wrought  the  bust.  Generally  these  wicked  old  fel 
lows,  and  their  wicked  wives  and  daughters,  are  not 
so  hideous  as  we  might  expect.  Messalina,  for  in 
stance,  has  small  and  pretty  features,  though  with 
rather  a  sensual  development  of  the  lower  part  of  the 
face.  The  busts,  it  seemed  to  me,  are  usually  superior 
as  works  of  art  to  those  in  the  Capitol,  and  either 
better  preserved  or  more  thoroughly  restored.  The 
bust  of  Nero  might  almost  be  called  handsome  here, 
though  bearing  his  likeness  unmistakably. 

I  wish  some  competent  person  would  undertake  to 
analyze  and  develop  his  character,  and  how  and  by 
what  necessity  —  with  all  his  elegant  tastes,  his  love 
of  the  beautiful,  his  artist  nature  —  he  grew  to  be  such 
a  monster.  Nero  has  never  yet  had  justice  done  him, 
nor  have  any  of  the  wicked  emperors ;  not  that  I 
suppose  them  to  have  been  any  less  monstrous  than 
history  represents  them  ;  but  there  must  surely  have 
been  something  in  their  position  and  circumstances 
to  render  the  terrible  moral  disease  which  seized  upon 


4  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

them  so  generally  almost  inevitable.  A  wise  and 
profound  man,  tender  and  reverent  of  the  human 
soul,  and  capable  of  appreciating  it  -in  its  height  and 
depth,  has  a  great  field  here  for  the  exercise  of  his 
powers.  It  has  struck  me,  in  reading  the  history  of 
the  Italian  republics,  that  many  of  the  tyrants,  who 
sprung  up  after  the  destruction  of  their  liberties, 
resembled  the  worst  of  the  Koman  emperors.  The 
subject  of  Nero  and  his  brethren  has  often  perplexed 
me  with  vain  desires  to  come  at  the  truth. 

There  were  many  beautiful  specimens  of  antique, 
ideal  sculpture  all  along  the  gallery,  —  Apollos,  Bac- 
chuses,  Venuses,  Mercurys,  Fauns,  —  with  the  general 
character  of  all  of  which  I  was  familiar  enough  to 
recognize  them  at  a  glance.  The  mystery  and  wonder 
of  the  gallery,  however,  the  Venus  di  Medici,  I 
could  nowhere  see,  and  indeed  was  almost  afraid  to 
see  it ;  for  I  somewhat  apprehended  the  extinction  of 
another  of  those  lights  that  shine  along  a  man's 
pathway,  and  go  out  in  a  snuff  the  instant  he  comes 
within  eyeshot  of  the  fulfilment  of  his  hopes.  My 
European  experience  has  extinguished  many  such. 
I  was  pretty  well  contented,  therefore,  not  to  find  the 
famous  statue  in  the  whole  of  my  long  journey  from 
end  to  end  of  the  gallery,  which  terminates  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  court  from  that  where  it  com 
mences.  The  ceiling,  by  the  by,  through  the  entire 
length,  is  covered  with  frescos,  and  the  floor  paved 
•with  a  composition  of  stone  smooth  and  polished  liko 
marble.  The  final  piece  of  sculpture,  at  the  end  of 
the  gallery,  is  a  copy  of  the  Laocoon,  considered  very 


1858.]  ITALY.  5 

fine.  I  know  not  why,  but  it  did  not  impress  me 
with  the  sense  of  mighty  and  terrible  repose  —  a 
repose  growing  out  of  the  infinitude  of  trouble  —  that 
I  had  felt  in  the  original. 

Parallel  with  the  gallery,  on  both  sides  of  the 
palace-court,  there  runs  a  series  of  rooms  devoted 
chiefly  to  pictures,  although  statues  and  bas-reliefs  are 
likewise  contained  in  some  of  them.  I  remember  an 
unfinished  bas-relief  by  Michael  Angelo  of  a  Holy  Fam 
ily,  which  I  touched  with  my  finger,  because  it  seemed 
as  if  he  might  have  been  at  work  upon  it  only  an  hour 
ago.  The  pictures  I  did  little  more  than  glance  at, 
till  I  had  almost  completed  again  the  circuit  of  tha- 
gallery,  through  this  series  of  parallel  rooms,  and  then 
I  came  upon  a  collection  of  French  and  Dutch  and 
Flemish  masters,  all  of  which  interested  me  more  than 
the  Italian  generally.  There  was  a  beautiful  picture 
by  Claude,  almost  as  good  as  those  in  the  British 
National  Gallery,  and  very  like  in  subject ;  the  sun 
near  the  horizon,  of  course,  and  throwing  its  line  of 
light  over  the  ripple  of  water,  with  ships  at  the  strand, 
and  one  or  two  palaces  of  stately  architecture  on  the 
shore.  Landscapes  by  Rembrandt ;  fat  Graces  and 
other  plump  nudities  by  Rubens ;  brass  pans  and 
earthen  pots  and  herrings  by  Teniers  and  other 
Dutchmen  ;  none  by  Gerard  Dow,  I  think,  but  several 
by  Mieris ;  all  of  which  were  like  bread  and  beef  and 
ale,  after  having  been  fed  too  long  on  made  dishes. 
This  is  really  a  wonderful  collection  of  pictures  ;  and 
from  first  to  last  —  fr*om  Giotto  to  the  men  of  yester 
day  —  they  are  in  admirable  condition,  and  may  be 


FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

appreciated   for   all   the   merit   that   they   ever   pos 
sessed. 

I  could  not  quite  believe  that  I  was  not  to  find  the 
Venus  di  Medici ;  and  still,  as  I  passed  from  one  room 
to  another,  my  breath  rose  and  fell  a  little,  with  the 
half-hope,  half-fear,  that  she  might  stand  before  me. 
Really,  I  did  not  know  that  I  cared  so  much  about 
Venus,  or  any  possible  woman  of  marble.  At  last, 
when  I  had  come  from  among  the  Dutchmen,  I  believe, 
and  was  looking  at  some  works  of  Italian  artists,  chiefly 
Florentines,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  through  the 
door  of  the  next  room.  It  is  the  best  room  of  the 
series,  octagonal  in  shape,  and  hung  with  red  damask, 
and  the  light  comes  down  from  a  row  of  windows, 
passing  quite  round,  beneath  an  octagonal  dome.  The 
Venus  stands  somewhat  aside  from  the  centre  of  the 
room,  and  is  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  a  pace  or 
two  from  her  pedestal  in  front,  and  less  behind.  I 
think  she  might  safely  be  left  to  the  reverence  her 
womanhood  would  win,  without  any  other  protection. 
She  is  very  beautiful,  very  satisfactory  ;  and  has  a 
fresh  and  new  charm  about  her  unreached  by  any  cast 
or  copy.  The  hue  of  the  marble  is  just  so  much 
mellowed  by  time,  as  to  do  for  her  all  that  Gibson 
tries,  or  ought  to  try  to  do  for  his  statues  by  color, 
softening  her,  warming  her  almost  imperceptibly, 
making  her  an  inmate  of  the  heart,  as  well  as  a 
spiritual  existence.  I  felt  a  kind  of  tenderness  for 
her ;  an  affection,  not  as  if  she  were  one  woman,  but 
all  womanhood  in  one.  Her  modest  attitude,  which, 
before  I  saw  her  I  had  not  liked,  deeming  that  it 


1858.]  ITALY.  7 

might  be  an  artificial  shame,  is  partly  what  unmakes 
her  as  the  heathen  goddess,  and  softens  her  into 
woman.  There  is  a  slight  degree  of  alarm,  too,  in 
her  face  ;  not  that  she  really  thinks  anybody  is  look 
ing  at  her,  yet  the  idea  has  flitted  through  her  mind, 
and  startled  her  a  little.  Her  face  is  so  beautiful  and 
intellectual,  that  it  is  not  dazzled  out  of  sight  by  her 
form.  Methinks  this  was  a  triumph  for  the  sculptor 
to  achieve.  I  may  as  well  stop  here.  It  is  of  no  use 
to  throw  heaps  of  words  upon  her ;  for  they  all  fall 
away,  and  leave  her  standing  in  chaste  and  naked 
grace,  as  untouched  as  when  I  began. 

She  has  suffered  terribly  by  the  mishaps  of  her  long 
existence  in  the  marble.  Each  of  her  legs  has  been 
broken  into  two  or  three  fragments,  her  arms  have 
been  severed,  her  body  has  been  broken  quite  across 
at  the  waist,  her  head  has  been  snapped  off  at  the 
neck.  Furthermore,  there  have  been  grievous  wounds 
and  losses  of  substance  in  various  tender  parts  of  her 
person.  But  on  account  of  the  skill  with  which  the 
statue  has  been  restored,  and  also  because  the  idea  is 
perfect  and  indestructible,  all  these  injuries  do  not  in 
the  least  impair  the  effect,  even  when  you  see  where  the 
dissevered  fragments  have  been  reunited.  She  is  just 
as  whole  as  when  she  left  the  hands  of  the  sculptor. 
I  am  glad  to  have  seen  this  Venus,  and  to  have  found 
her  so  tender  and  so  chaste.  On  the  wall  of  the  room, 
and  to  be  taken  in  at  the  same  glance,  is  a  painted  Venus 
by  Titian,  reclining  on  a  couch,  naked  and  lustful. 

The  room  of  the  Vanus  seems  to  be  the  treasure- 
Jilace  of  the  whole  Uffizzi  Palace,  containing  more 


8  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858, 

pictures  by  famous  masters  than  are  to  bo  found  in 
all  the  rest  of  the  gallery.  There  were  several  by 
Raphael,  and  the  room  was  crowded  with  the  easels 
of  artists.  I  did  not  look  half  enough  at  anything, 
but  merely  took  a  preliminary  taste,  as  a  prophecy  of 
enjoyment  to  come. 

As  we  were  at  dinner  to-day,  at  half  past  three, 
there  was  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  a  minute  after  our 
servant  brought  a  card.  It  was  Mr.  Robert  Brown 
ing's,  and  on  it  was  written  in  pencil  an  invitation 
for  us  to  go  to  see  them  this  evening.  He  had  left 
the  card  and  gone  away ;  but  very  soon  the  bell 
rang  again,  and  he  had  come  back,  having  forgotten 
to  give  his  address.  This  time  he  came  in ;  and  he 
shook  hands  with  all  of  us,  children  and  grown 
people,  and  was  very  vivacious  and  agreeable.  Ho 
looked  younger  and  even  handsomer  than  when  I 
saw  him  in  London,  two  years  ago,  and  his  gray 
hairs  seemed  fewer  than  those  that  had  then  strayed 
into  his  youthful  head.  He  talked  a  wonderful 
quantity  in  a  little  time,  and  told  us — among  other 
things  that  we  should  never  have  dreamed  of — that 
Italian  people  will  not  cheat  you,  if  you  construe 
them  generously,  and  put  them  upon  their  honor. 

Mr.  Browning  was  very  kind  and  warm  in  his 
expressions  of  pleasure  at  seeing  us ;  and,  on  our 
part,  we  were  all  very  glad  to  meet  him.  He  must 

be  an  exceedingly  likeable  man They  are  to 

leavo  Florence  very  soon,  and  are  going  to  Nor 
mandy,  I  think  he  said,  for  the  rest  of  the  summer. 

The  Venus  di  Medici  has  a  dimple  in  her  chin. 


1858.]  ITALY.  9 

June  Wi.  —  We  went  last  evening,  at  eight  o'clock, 
to  see  the  Brownings ;  and,  after  some  search  and 
inquiry,  we  found  the  Casa  Guidi,  which  is  a  palaco 
in  a  street  not  very  far  from  our  own.  It  being  dusk, 
I  could  not  see  the  exterior,  which,  if  I  remember, 
Browning  has  celebrated  in  song ;  at  all  events, 
Mrs.  Browning  has  called  one  of  her  poems  "  Casa 
Guidi  Windows." 

The  street  is  a  narrow  one ;  but  on  entering  the 
palace,  we  found  a  spacious  staircase  and  ample 
accommodations  of  vestibule  and  hall,  the  latter 
opening  on  a  balcony,  where  we  could  hear  the 
chanting  of  priests  in  a  church  close  by.  Browning 
told  us  that  this  was  the  first  church  where  an 
oratorio  had  ever  been  performed.  He  came  into 
the  anteroom  to  greet  us,  as  did  his  little  boy, 
Robert,  whom  they  call  Pennini  for  fondness.  The 
latter  cognomen  is  a  diminutive  of  Apennino,  which 
was  bestowed  -upon  him  at  his  first  advent  into  the 
world  because  he  was  so  very  small,  there  being 
a  statue  in  Florence  of  colossal  size  called  Apennino. 
I  never  saw  such  a  boy  as  this  before ;  so  slender, 
fragile,  and  spirit-like,  —  not  as  if  he  were  actually  in 
ill  health,  but  as  if  he  had  little  or  nothing  to  do 
with  human  flesh  and  blood.  His  face  is  very  pretty 
and  most  intelligent,  and  exceedingly  like  his 
mother's.  He  is  nine  years  old,  and  seems  at  onco 
less  childlike  and  less  manly  than  would  befit  that 
age.  I  should  not  quite  like  to  be  the  father  of  such 
a  boy,  and  should  fear  to  stake  so  much  interest  and 
affection  on  him  as  he  cannot  fail  to  inspire.  I  wonder 
1* 


10  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1853. 

what  is  to  become  of  him,  —  whether  he  will  ever  grow 
to  be  a  man,  —  whether  it  is  desirable  that  he  should. 
His  parents  ought  to  turn  their  whole  attention  to 
making  him  robust  and  earthly,  and  to  giving  him  a 
thicker  scabbard  to  sheathe  his  spirit  in.  He  was 
born  in  Florence,  and  prides  himself  on  being  a 
Florentine,  and  is  indeed  as  un-English  a  produc 
tion  as  if  he  were  native  of  another  planet. 

Mrs.  Browning  met  us  at  the  door  of  the  drawing- 
room,  and  greeted  us  most  kindly,  —  a  pale,  small 
person,  scarcely  embodied  at  all ;  at  any  rate,  only 
substantial  enough  to  put  forth  her  slender  fingers 
to  be  grasped,  and  to  speak  with  a  shrill,  yet  sweet, 
tenuity  of  voice.  Really,  I  do  not  see  how  Mr. 
Browning  can  suppose  that  he  has  an  earthly  wife 
any  more  than  an  earthly  child  ;  both  are  of  the 
elfin  race,  and  will  flit  away  from  him  some  day 
when  he  least  thinks  of  it.  She  is  a  good  and  kind 
fairy,  however,  and  sweetly  disposed  towards  the 
human  race,  although  only  remotely  akin  to  it.  It 
is  wonderful  to  see  how  small  she  is,  how  pale  her 
cheek,  how  bright  and  dark  her  eyes.  There  is 
not  such  another  figure  in  the  world  ;  and  her  black 
ringlets  cluster  down  into  her  neck,  and  make  her 
face  look  the  whiter  by  their  sable  profusion.  I 
could  not  form  any  judgment  about  her  age ;  it 
may  range  anywhere  within  the  limits  of  human 
life  or  elfin  life.  When  I  met  her  in  London  at 
Lord  Hough  ton' s  breakfast-table,  she  did  not  impress 
me  so  singularly  ;  for  the  morning  light  is  more  prosaic 
than  the  dim  illumination  of  their  great  tapestried 


1858.]  ITALY.  11 

drawing-room;  and  besides,  sitting  next  to  her,  she 
did  not  have  occasion  to  raise  her  voice  in  speaking, 
and  I  was  not  sensible  what  a  slender  voice  she  has. 
It  is  marvellous  to  me  how  so  extraordinary,  so  acute, 
so  sensitive  a  creature  can  impress  us,  as  she  does, 
with  the  certainty  of  her  benevolence.  It  seems  to 
me  there  were  a  million  chances  to  one  that  she 
would  have  been  a  miracle  of  acidity  and  bitterness. 

We  were  not  the  only  guests.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

E ,  Americans,  recently  from  the  East,  and  on 

intimate  terms  with  the  Brownings,  arrived  after 

us;  also  Miss  F.  H ,  an  English  literary  lady, 

whom  I  have  met  several  times  in  Liverpool;  and 
lastly  came  the  white  head  and  palmer-like  beard  of 

Mr.  with  his  daughter.  Mr.  Browning  was 

very  efficient  in  keeping  up  conversation  with  every 
body,  and  seemed  to  be  in  all  parts  of  the  room  and 
in  every  group  at  the  same  moment;  a  most  vivid 
and  quick-thoughted  person,  logical  and  common- 
sensible,  as,  I  presume,  poets  generally  are  in  their 

daily  talk.  Mr.  ,  as  usual,  was  homely  and 

plain  of  manner,  with  an  old-fashioned  dignity, 
nevertheless,  and  a  remarkable  deference  and  gentle 
ness  of  tone  in  addressing  Mrs.  Browning.  I  doubt, 
however,  whether  he  has  any  high-  appreciation 
either  of  her  poetry  or  her  husband's,  and  it  is  my 
impression  that  they  care  as  little  about  his. 

We  had  some  tea  and  Rome  strawberries,  and 
passed  a  pleasant  evening.  There  was  no  very  note 
worthy  conversation  J  the  most  interesting  topic 
being  that  disagreeable  and  now  wearisome  one  of 


12  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

spiritual  communications,  as  regards  which  Mrs. 
Browning  is  a  believer,  and  her  husband  an  infidel. 

Mr.  • appeared  not  to  have  made  up  his  mind  on 

the  matter,  but  told  a  story  of  a  successful  communi 
cation  between  Cooper  the  novelist  and  his  sister, 
who  had  been  dead  fifty  years.  Browning  and  his 
wife  had  both  been  present  at  a  spiritual  session  held 
by  Mr.  Hume,  and  had  seen  and  felt  the  unearthly 
hands,  one  of  which  had  placed  a  laurel  wreath  on 
Mrs.  Browning's  head.  Browning,  however,  avowed 
his  belief  that  these  hands  were  affixed  to  the  feet  of 
Mr.  Hume,  who  lay  extended  in  his  chair,  with  his  legs 
stretched  far  under  the  table.  The  marvellousncss  of 
the  fact,  as  I  have  read  of  it,  and  heard  it  from  other 
eye-witnesses,  melted  strangely  away  in  his  hearty 
gripe,  and  at  the  sharp  touch  of  his  logic ;  while  his 
wife,  ever  and  anon,  put  in  a  little  gentle  word  of 
expostulation. 

I  am  rather  surprised  that  Browning's  conversation 
should  be  so  clear,  and  so  much  to  the  purpose  at  the 
moment,  since  his  poetry  can  seldom  proceed  far 
without  running  into  the  high  grass  of  latent  mean 
ings  and  obscure  allusions. 

Mrs.  Browning's  health  does  not  permit  late  hours, 
so  we  began  to  take  leave  at  about  ten  o'clock.  I 
heard  her  ask  Mr.  -  -  if  he  did  not  mean  to  revisit 
Europe,  and  heard  him  answer,  not  uncheerfully,  taking 
hold  of  his  white  hair,  "  It  is  getting  rather  too  late  in 
the  evening  now."  If  any  old  age  can  be  cheerful,  I 
should  think  his  might  be ;  so  good  a  man,  so  cool, 
so  calm,  so  bright,  too,  we  may  say.  His  life  has 


1858.]  ITALY.  13 

been  like  the  days  that  end  in  pleasant  sunsets.  He 
has  a  great  loss,  however,  or  what  ought  to  be  a 
great  loss,  —  soon  to  be  encountered  in  the  death  of 
his  wife,  who,  I  think,  can  hardly  live  to  reach 
America.  He  is  not  eminently  an  affectionate  man. 
I  take  him  to  be  one  who  cannot  get  closely  home  to 
his  sorrow,  nor  feel  it  so  sensibly  as  he  gladly  would ; 
and,  in  consequence  of  that  deficiency,  the  world 
lacks  substance  to  him.  It  is  partly  the  result,  per 
haps,  of  his  not  having  sufficiently  cultivated  his 
emotional  nature.  His  poetry  shows  it,  and  his  per 
sonal  intercourse,  though  kindly,  does  not  stir  one's 
blood  in  the  least. 

Little  Pennini,  during  the  evening,  sometimes 
helped  the  guests  to  cake  and  strawberries;  joined 
in  the  conversation,  when  he  had  anything  to  say,  or 
sat  down  upon  a  couch  to  enjoy  his  own  meditations. 
He  has  long  curling  hair,  and  has  not  yet  emerged 
from  his  frock  and  short  hose.  It  is  funny  to  think 
of  putting  him  into  trousers.  His  likeness  to  his 
mother  is  strange  to  behold. 

June  1  Oth.  —  My  wife  and  I  went  to  the  Pitti  Palace 
to-day  ;  and  first  entered  a  court  where,  yesterday, 
she  had  seen  a  carpet  of  flowers,  arranged  for  some 
great  ceremony.  It  must  have  been  a  most  beautiful 
sight,  the  pavement  of  the  court  being  entirely  covered 
by  them,  in  a  regular  pattern  of  brilliant  hues,  so  as 
really  to  be  a  living  mosaic.  This  morning,  however, 
the  court  had  nothing  but  its  usual  stones,  and  the 
show  of  yesterday  seesncd  so  much  the  more  ines 
timable  as  having  been  so  evanescent.  Around  the 


14  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

walls  of  the  court  there  were  still  some  pieces'  of 
splendid  tapestry  which  had  made  part  of  yesterday's 
magnificence.  We  went  up  the  staircase,  of  regally 
broad  and  easy  ascent,  and  made  application  to  be 
admitted  to  see  the  grand  ducal  apartments.  An 
attendant  accordingly  took  the  keys,  and  ushered  us 
first  into  a  great  hall  with  a  vaulted  ceiling,  and  then 
through  a  series  with  rich  frescos 

above  and  mosaic  floors,  hung  with  damask,  adorned 
with  gilded  chandeliers,  and  glowing,  in  short,  with 
more  gorgeousness  than  I  could  have  imagined 
beforehand,  or  can  now  remember.  In  many  of  the 
rooms  were  those  superb  antique  cabinets  which  I 
admire  more  than  any  other  furniture  ever  invented  ; 
only  these  were  of  unexampled  art  and  glory,  inlaid 
with  precious  stones,  and  with  beautiful  Florentine 
mosaics,  both  of  flowers  and  landscapes,  —  each  cabinet 
worth  a  lifetime's  toil  to  make  it,  and  the  cost  a  whole 
palace  to  pay  for  it.  Many  of  the  rooms  were  covered 
with  arras,  of  landscapes,  hunting-scenes,  mytho 
logical  subjects,  or  historical  scenes,  equal  to  pictures 
in  truth  of  representation,  and  possessing  an  in 
describable  richness  that  makes  them  preferable  as 
a  mere  adornment  of  princely  halls  and  chambers. 
Some  of  the  rooms,  as  I  have  said,  were  laid  in 
mosaic  of  stone  and  marble,  otherwise  in  lovely 
patterns  of  various  woods ;  others  were  covered  with 
carpets,  delightful  to  tread  upon,  and  glowing  like 
the  living  floor  of  flowers  which  my  wifr  saw  yester 
day.  There  were  tables,  too,  of  Florentine  mosaic, 
the  mere  materials  of  which  —  lapis  lazuli,  malachite, 


1858.]  ITALY.  15 

pearl,  and  a  hundred  other  precious  things  —  were 
worth  a  fortune,  and  made  a  thousand  times  more 
valuable  by  the  artistic  skill  of  the  manufacturer.  I 
toss  together  brilliant  words  by  the  handful,  and 
make  a  rude  sort  of  patchwork,  but  can  record  no 
adequate  idea  of  what  I  saw  in  this  suite  of  rooms; 
and  the  taste,  the  subdued  splendor,  so  that  it  did 
not  shine  too  high,  but  was  all  tempered  into  an 
effect  at  once  grand  and  soft,  —  this  was  quite  as  re 
markable  as  the  gorgeous  material.  I  have  seen  a 
very  dazzling  effect  produced  in  the  principal  cabin 
of  an  American  clipper-ship  quite  opposed  to  this  in 
taste. 

After  making  the  circuit  of  the  grand  ducal  apart 
ments,  we  went  into  a  door  in  the  left  wing  of  the 
palace,  and  ascended  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs,  — 
several  tortuous  flights  indeed,  —  to  the  picture-gal 
lery.  It  fills  a  great  many  stately  halls,  which  them 
selves  are  well  worth  a  visit  for  the  architecture  and 
frescos ;  only  these  matters  become  commonplace 
after  travelling  through  a  mile  or  two  of  them.  The 
collection  of  pictures  —  as  well  for  their  number  as 
for  the  celebrity  and  excellence  of  many  of  them  — 
is  the  most  interesting  that  I  have  seen,  and  I  do  not 
yet  feel  in  a  condition,  nor  perhaps  ever  shall,  to 
speak  of  a  single  one.  It  gladdened  my  very  heart 
to  find  that  they  were  not  darkened  out  of  sight,  nor 
apparently  at  all  injured  by  time,  but  were  well 
kept  and  varnished,  brilliantly  framed,  and,  no  doubt, 
restored  by  skilful  touches  if  any  of  them  needed  it. 
The  artists  and  amateurs  may  say  what  they  like; 


16  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

for  my  part,  I  know  no  drearier  feeling  than  that 
inspired  by  a  ruined  picture,  —  ruined,  that  is,  by  time, 
damp,  or  rough  treatment,  —  and  I  would  a  thousand 
times  rather  an  artist  should  do  his  best  towards 
reviving  it,  than  have  it  left  in  such  a  condition.  I 
do  not  believe,  however,  that  these  pictures  have 
been  sacrilegiously  interfered  with ;  at  all  events,  I 
saw  in  the  masterpieces  no  touch  but  what  seemed 
worthy  of  the  master-hand. 

The  most  beautiful  picture  in  the  world,  I  am  con 
vinced,  is  Raphael's  "  Madonna  dclla  Seggiola."  I  was 
familiar  with  it  in  a  hundred  engravings  and  copies, 
and  therefore  it  shone  upon  me  as  with  a  familiar 
beauty,  though  infinitely  more  divine  than  I  had  ever 
seen  it  before.  An  artist  was  copying  it,  and  pro 
ducing  certainly  something  very  like  a  fac-similc,  yet 
leaving  out,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  mysterious 
something  that  renders  the  picture  a  miracle.  It  is 
my  present  opinion  that  the  pictorial  art  is  capable 
of  something  more  like  magic,  more  wonderful  and 
inscrutable  in  its  methods,  than  poetry  or  any  other 
mode  of  developing  the  beautiful.  But  how  does 
this  accord  with  what  T  have  been  saying  only  a 
minute  agol  How  then  can  the  decayed  picture  of  a 
great  master  ever  be  restored  by  the  touches  of  an 
inferior  hand  ?  Doubtless  it  never  can  be  restored  ; 
but  let  some  devoted  worshipper  do  his  utmost,  and 
the  whole  inherent  spirit  of  the  divine  picture  may 
pervade  his  restorations  likewise. 

I  saw  the  "Three  Fates  "  of  Michael  Angelo,  which 
were  also  being  copied,  as  were  many  other  of  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  17 

best  pictures.  Miss  Fanny  Howorth,  whom  I  met 
in  the  gallery,  told  me  that  to  copy  the  "  Madonna 
della  Seggiola,"  application  must  be  made  five  years 
beforehand,  so  many  are  the  artists  who  aspire  to  copy 
it.  Michael  Angelo's  Fates  are  three  very  grim 
and  pitiless  old  women,  who  respectively  spin,  hold, 
and  cut  the  thread  of  human  destiny,  all  in  a  mood 
of  sombre  gloom,  but  with  no  more  sympathy  than 
if  they  had  nothing  to  do  with  us.  I  remember  seeing 
an  etching  of  this  when  I  was  a  child,  and  being 
struck,  even  then,  with  the  terrible,  stern,  passionless 
severity,  neither  loving  us  nor  hating  us,  that  charac 
terizes  these  ugly  old  women.  If  they  were  angry, 
or  had  the  least  spite  against  human  kind,  it  would 
render  them  the  more  tolerable.  They  are  a  great 
work,  containing  and  representing  the  very  idea  that 
makes  a  belief  in  fate  such  a  cold  torture  to  the 
human  soul  God  give  me  the  sure  belief  in  his 
Providence  ! 

In  a  year's  time,  with  the  advantage  of  access  to 
this  magnificent  gallery,  I  think  I  might  come  to 
have  some  little  knowledge  of  pictures.  At  present 
I  still  know  nothing ;  but  am  glad  to  find  myself 
capable,  at  least,  of  loving  one  picture  better  than 
another.  I  cannot  always  "  keep  the  heights  I  gain," 
however,  and  after  admiring  and  being  moved  by  a 
picture  one  day,  it  is  within  my  experience  to  look 
at  it  the  next  as  little  moved  as  if  it  were  a  tavern- 
sign.  It  is  pretty  much  the  same  with  statuary  ;  the 
same,  too,  with  those  pictured  windows  of  the  DuomOi 
which  I  described  so  rapturously  a  few  days  ago.  I 


18  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

looked  at  them  again  the  next  morning,  and  thought 
they  \vonld  have  been  hardly  worthy  of  my  eulogium, 
even  had  all  the  separate  windows  of  the  Cathedral 
combined  their  narrow  lights  into  one  grand,  re 
splendent,  many-colored  arch  at  the  eastern  end. 
It  is  a  pity  they  are  so  narrow.  England  has  many 
a  great  chancel-window  that,  though  dimmer  in  its 
hues,  dusty,  and  perhaps  made  up  of  heterogeneous 
fragments,  eclipses  these  by  its  spacious  breadth. 

From  the  gallery,  I  went  into  the  Bololi  Gardens, 
which  are  contiguous  to  the  palace  ;  but  found  them 
too  sunny  for  enjoyment.  They  seem  to  consist  partly 
of  a  wilderness  ;  but  the  portion  into  which  I  strayed 
was  laid  out  with  straight  walks,  lined  with  high  box- 
hedges,  along  which  there  was  only  a  narrow  margin 
of  shade.  I  saw  an  amphitheatre,  with  a  wide  sweep 
of  marble  seat  around  it,  enclosing  a  grassy  space, 
where,  doubtless,  tho  Medici  may  have  witnessed 
splendid  spectacles. 

June  lltk.  —  I  paid  another  visit  to  the  Uffizzi 
gallery  this  morning,  and  found  that  the  Venus  is  one 
of  the  things  the  charm  of  which  does  not  diminish  on 
better  acquaintance.  The  world  has  not  grown  weary 
of  her  in  all  these  ages  ;  and  mortal  man  may  look  on 
her  with  new  delight  from  infancy  to  old  ago,  and 
keep  the  memory  of  her,  I  should  imagine,  as  cnie  of 
the  treasures  of  spiritual  existence  hereafter.  Surely, 
it  makes  me  more  ready  to  believe  in  the  high  des 
tinies  of  the  human  race,  to  think  that  diis  beautiful 
form  is  but  nature's  plan  for  all  womankind,  and  that 
the  nearer  the  actual  woman  approaches  it,  the  more 


1858.]  ITALY.  19 

natural  she  is.  I  do  not,  and  cannot  think  of  her  as  a 
senseless  image,  but  as  a  being  that  lives  to  gladden 
the  world,  incapable  of  decay  and  death  ;  as  young 
and  fair  to-day  as  she  was  three  thousand  years  ago, 
and  still  to  be  young  and  fair  as  long  as  a  beautiful 
thought  shall  require  physical  embodiment.  I  wonder 
how  any  sculptor  has  had  the  impertinence  to  aim  at 
any  other  presentation  of  female  beauty.  I  mean  no 
disrespect  to  Gibson  or  Powers,  or  a  hundred  other 
men  who  people  the  world  with  nudities,  all  of  which 
are  abortions  as  compared  with  her ;  but  I  think  the 
world  would  be  all  the  richer  if  their  Venuses,  their 
Greek  Slaves,  their  Eves,  were  burnt  into  quicklime, 
leaving  us  only  this  statue  as  our  image  of  the  beauti 
ful.  I  observed  to-day  that  the  eyes  of  the  statue  are 
slightly  hollowed  out,  in  a  peculiar  way,  so  as  to  give 
them  a  look  of  depth  and  intelligence.  She  is  a 
miracle.  The  sculptor  must  have  wrought  religiously, 
and  have  felt  that  something  far  beyond  his  own  skill 
was  working  through  his  hands.  I  mean  to  leave  off 
speaking  of  the  Venus  hereafter,  in  utter  despair  of 
saying  what  I  wish  ;  especially  as  the  contemplation 
of  the  statue  will  refine  and  elevate  my  taste,  and 
make  it  continually  more  difficult  to  express  my  sense 
of  its  excellence,  as  the  perception  of  it  grows  upon 
me.  If  at  any  time  I  become  less  sensible  of  it,  it 
will  be  my  deterioration,  not  any  defect  in  the  statue. 
I  looked  at  many  of  the  pictures,  and  found  myself 
in  a  favorable  mood  for  enjoying  them.  It  seems  to 
me  that  a  work  of  artf  is  entitled  to  credit  for  all  that 
it  makes  us  feel  in  our  best  moments ;  and  we  must 


20  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

judge  of  its  merits  by  the  impression  it  then  makes, 
and  not  by  the  coldness  and  insensibility  of  our  less 
genial  moods. 

After  leaving  the  Uffizzi  Palace,  ....  I  went  into 
the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  near  the  Pitti  Palace. 
It  is  a  very  good  collection  of  almost  everything  that 
Nature  has  made,  —  or  exquisite  copies  of  what  she  has 
made,  —  stones,  shells,  vegetables,  insects,  fishes,  ani 
mals,  man ;  the  greatest  wonders  of  the  museum  being 
some  models  in  wax  of  all  parts  of  the  human  frame. 
It  is  good  to  have  the  wholeness  and  summed-up 
beauty  of  woman  in  the  memory,  when  looking  at  the 
details  of  her  system  as  here  displayed  ;  for  these  last, 
to  the  natural  eye,  are  by  no  means  beautiful.  But 
they  are  what  belong  only  to  our  mortality.  The 
beauty  that  makes  them  invisible  is  our  immortal 
type,  which  we  shall  take  away  with  us.  Under  glass 
cases,  there  were  some  singular  and  horribly  truthful 
representations,  in  small  wax  figures,  of  a  time  of 
pestilence ;  the  hasty  burial,  or  tossing  into  one 
common  sepulchre,  of  discolored  corpses,  —  a  very  ug 
ly  piece  of  work,  indeed.  I  think  Murray  says  that 
these  things  were  made  for  the  Grand  Duke  Cosmo ; 
and  if  so,  they  do  him  no  credit,  indicating  something 
dark  and  morbid  in  his  character. 

June  1 3th.  —  We  called  at  the  Powers's  yesterday 

morning  to  leave  R there  for  an  hour  or  two  to  play 

with  the  children ;  and  it  being  not  yet  quite  time  for 
the  Pitti  Palace,  we  stepped  into  the  studio.  Soon 
Mr.  Powers  made  his  appearance,  in  his  dressing-gown 
and  slippers  and  sculptor's  cap,  smoking  a  cigar 


1858-]  ITALY.  21 

He  was  very  cordial  and  pleasant,  as  I  have  always 
found  him,  and  began  immediately  to  be  communica 
tive  about  his  own  works,  or  any  other  subject  that 
came  up.  There  were  two  casts  of  the  Venus  di 
Medici  in  the  rooms,  which  he  said  were  valuable  in  a 
commercial  point  of  view,  being  genuine  casts  from 
the  mould  taken  from  the  statue.  He  then  gave  us  a 
quite  unexpected  but  most  interesting  lecture  on.  the 
Venus,  demonstrating  it,  as  he  proceeded,  by  reference 
to  the  points  which  he  criticised.  The  figure,  he 
seemed  to  allow,  was  admirable,  though  I  think  he 
hardly  classes  it  so  high  as  his  own  Greek  Slave  or 
Eva ;  but  the  face,  he  began  with  saying,  was  that  of 
an  idiot.  Then,  leaning  on  the  pedestal  of  the  cast, 
he  continued,  "It  is  rather  a  bold  thing  to  say,  is  n't 
it,  that  the  sculptor  of  the  Venus  di  Medici  did  not 
know  what  he  was  about  ? " 

Truly,  it  appeared  to  me  so  ;  but  Powers  went  on 
remorselessly,  and  showed,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
eye  was  not  like  any  eye  that  Nature  ever  made ; 
and,  indeed,  being  examined  closely,  and  abstracted 
from  the  rest  of  the  face,  it  has  a  very  queer  look,  — 
less  like  a  human  eye  than  a  half- worn  buttonhole  ! 
Then  he  attacked  the  ear,  which,  he  affirmed  and 
demonstrated,  was  placed  a  good  deal  too  low  on  the 
head,  thereby  giving  an  artificial  and  monstrous 
height  to  the  portion  of  the  head  above  it.  The  fore 
head  met  with  no  better  treatment  in  his  hands,  and 
as  to  the  mouth,  it  was  altogether  wrong,  as  well  in 
its  general  make  as  in  £uch  niceties  as  the  junction  of 
the  skin  of  the  lips  to  the  common  skin  around  them. 


22  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

In  a  word,  the  poor  face  was  battered  all  to  pieces  and 
utterly  demolished  ;  nor  was  it  possible  to  doubt  or 
question  that  it  fell  by  its  own  demerits.  All  that 
could  be  urged  in  its  defence  —  and  even  that  I  did 
not  urge  —  being  that  this  very  face  had  affected  me, 
only  the  day  before,  with  a  sense  of  higher  beauty 
and  intelligence  than  I  had  ever  then  received  from 
sculpture,  and  that  its  expression  seemed  to  accord 
with  that  of  the  whole  figure,  as  if  it  were  the  sweetest 
note  of  the  same  music.  There  must  be  something 
in  this ;  the  sculptor  disregarded  technicalities,  and 
the  imitation  of  actual  nature,  the  better  to  produce 
the  effect  which  he  really  does  produce,  in  somewhat 
the  same  way  as  a  painter  works  his  magical  illusions 
by  touches  that  have  no  relation  to  the  truth  if  looked 
at  from  the  wrong  point  of  view.  But  Powers  con 
siders  it  certain  that  the  antique  sculptor  had  be 
stowed  all  his  care  on  the  study  of  the  human  figure, 
and  really  did  not  know  how  to  make  a  face.  I 
myself  used  to  think  that  the  face  was  a  much  less 
important  thing  with  the  Greeks,  among  whom  the 
entire  beauty  of  the  form  was  familiarly  seen,  than 
with  ourselves,  who  allow  no  other  nudity. 

After  annihilating  the  poor  visage,  Powers  showed 
us  his  two  busts  of  Proserpine  and  Psyche,  and  con 
tinued  his  lecture  by  showing  the  truth  to  nature 
with  which  these  are  modelled.  I  freely  acknowledge 
the  fact ;  there  is  no  sort  of  comparison  to  be  made 
between  the  beauty,  intelligence,  feeling,  and  ac 
curacy  of  representation  in  these  two  faces  and  in 
that  of  the  Venus  di  Medici.  A  light  —  the  light 


1858.]  ITALY.  23 

of  a  soul  proper  to  each  individual  character  —  seems 
to  shine  from  the  interior  of  the  marble,  and  beam 
forth  from  the  features,  chiefly  from  the  eyes.  Still 
insisting  upon  the  eye,  and  hitting  the  poor  Venus 
another  and  another  and  still  another  blow  on  that 
unhappy  feature,  Mr.  Powers  turned  up  and  turned 
inward  and  turned  outward  his  own  Titanic  orb,  — 
the  biggest,  by  far,  that  ever  I  saw  in  mortal  head,  — 
and  made  us  see  and  confess  that  there  was  nothing 
right  in  the  Venus  and  everything  right  in  Psyche 
and  Proserpine.  To  say  the  truth,  their  marble  eyes 
have  life,  and,  placing  yourself  in  the  proper  position 
towards  them,  you  can  meet  their  glances,  and  feel 
them  mingle  with  your  own.  Powers  is  a  great  man, 
arid  also  a  tender  and  delicate  one,  massive  and  rude 
of  surface  as  he  looks ;  and  it  is  rather  absurd  to  feel 
how  he  impressed  his  auditor,  for  the  time  being, 
with  his  own  evident  idea  that  nobody  else  is  worthy 

to  touch  marble.     Mr.  B told  me  that  Powers 

has  had  many  difficulties  on  professional  grounds,  as 
I  understood  him,  and  with  his  brother  artists.  No 
wonder  !  He  has  said  enough  in  my  hearing  to  put 
him  at  swords'  points  with  sculptors  of  every  epoch 
and  every  degree  between  the  two  inclusive  extremes 
of  Phidias  and  Clarke  Mills. 

He  has  a  bust  of  the  reigning  Grand  Duchess  of 
Tuscany,  who  sat  to  him  for  it.  The  bust  is  that  of 
a  noble-looking  lady ;  and  Powers  remarked  that 
royal  personages  have  a  certain  look  that  distin 
guishes  them  from  dther  people,  and  is  seen  in 
individuals  of  no  lower  rank.  They  all  have  it ;  the 


24  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Queen  of  England  and  Prince  Albert  have  it ;  and 
so  likewise  has  every  other  Royalty,  although  the 
possession  of  this  kingly  look  implies  nothing  what 
ever  as  respects  kingly  and  commanding  qualities. 
He  said  that  none  of  our  public  men,  whatever 
authority  they  may  have  held,  or  for  whatever  length 
of  time,  possess  this  look,  but  he  added  afterwards 
that  Washington  had  it.  Commanders  of  armies 
sometimes  have  it,  but  not  in  the  degree  that  royal 
personages  do.  It  is,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out 
Powers's  idea,  a  certain  coldness  of  demeanor,  and 
especially  of  eye,  that  surrounds  them  with  an  at 
mosphere  through  which  the  electricity  of  human 
brotherhood  cannot  pass.  From  their  youth  upward 
they  are  taught  to  feel  themselves  apart  from  the 
rest  of  mankind,  and  this  manner  becomes  a  second 
nature  to  them  in  consequence,  and  as  a  safeguard 
to  their  conventional  dignity.  They  put  themselves 
under  glass,  as  it  were  (the  illustration  is  my  own), 
so  that,  though  you  see  them,  and  see  them  looking 
no  more  noble  and  dignified  *than  other  mortals,  nor 
so  much  so  as  many,  still  they  keep  themselves  within 
a  sort  of  sanctity,  and  repel  you  by  an  invisible  bar 
rier.  Even  if  they  invite  you  with  a  show  of  warmth 
and  hospitality,  you  cannot  get  through.  I,  too, 
recognize  this  look  in  the  portraits  of  Washington  ; 
in  him,  a  mild,  benevolent  coldness  and  apartness,  but 
indicating  that  formality  which  seems  to  have  been 
deeper  in  him  than  in  any  other  mortf.l,  and  which 
built  up  an  actual  fortification  between  himself  and 
human  sympathy.  I  wish,  for  once,  Washington  could 


1858.]  ITALY.  25 

come  out  of  his  envelopment  and  show  us  what  his 
real  dimensions  were. 

Among  other  models  of  statues  heretofore  made, 
Powers  showed  us  one  of  Melancholy,  or  rather  of 
Contemplation,  from  Milton's  "  Penseroso  "  ;  a  female 
figure  with  uplifted  face  and  rapt  look,  "  communing 
with  the  skies."  It  is  very  fine,  and  goes  deeply  into 
Milton's  thought ;  but,  as  far  as  the  outward  form 
and  action  are  concerned,  I  remember  seeing  a  rude 
engraving  in  my  childhood  that  probably  suggested 
the  idea.  It  was  prefixed  to  a  cheap  American  edi 
tion  of  Milton's  poems,  and  was  probably  as  familiar 
to  Powers  as  to  myself.  It  is  very  remarkable  how 
difficult  it  seems  to  be  to  strike  out  a  new  attitude  in 
sculpture  ;  a  new  group,  or  a  new  single  figure. 

One  piece  of  sculpture  Powers  exhibited,  however, 
which  was  very  exquisite,  and  such  as  I  never  saw 
before.  Opening  a  desk,  he  took  out  something  care 
fully  enclosed  between  two  -layers  of  cotton  wool,  on 
removing  which  there  appeared  a  little  baby's  hand 
most  delicately  represented  in  the  whitest  marble ; 
all  the  dimples  where  the  knuckles  were  to  be,  all 
the  creases  in  the  plump  flesh,  every  infantine  wrinkle 
of  the  soft  skin  being  lovingly  recorded.  "  The  critics 
condemn  minute  representation,"  said  Powers  ;  "  but 
you  may  look  at  this  through  a  microscope  and  see 
if  it  injures  the  general  effect."  Nature  herself  never 
made  a  prettier  or  truer  little  hand.  It  was  the  hand 
of  his  daughter,  —  "  Luly's  hand,"  Powers  called  it,  — 
the  same  that  gave  my  own  such  a  frank  and  friendly 
grasp  when  I  first  met  "  Luly."  The  sculptor  made 

VOL.  II.  2 


26  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

it  only  for  himself  and  his  wife,  but  so  many  people, 
he  said,  had  insisted  011  having  a  copy,  that  there  are 
now  forty  scattered  about  the  world.  At  sixty  years, 
Luly  ought  to  have  her  hand  sculptured  again,  and 
give  it  to  her  grandchildren  with  the  baby's  hand  of 
five  months  old.  The  baby-hand  that  had  done  noth 
ing,  and  felt  only  its  mother's  kiss;  the  old  lady's 
hand  that  had  exchanged  the  love-pressure,  worn  the 
marriage-ring,  closed  dead  eyes,  —  done  a  lifetime's 
work,  in  short.  The  sentiment  is  rather  obvious,  but 
true  nevertheless. 

Before  we  went  away,  Powers  took  us  into  a  room 
apart  —  apparently  the  secretest  room  he  had  —  and 
showed  us  some  tools  and  machinery,  all  of  his  own 
contrivance  and  invention.  "  You  see  I  am  a  bit  of  a 
Yankee,"  he  observed. 

This  machinery  is  chiefly  to  facilitate  the  process  of 
modelling  'his  works,  for  —  except  in  portrait-busts  — • 
he  makes  no  clay  model  as  other  sculptors  do,  but 
models  directly  in  the  plaster  ;  so  that  instead  of  be 
ing  crumbled,  like  clay,  the  original  model  remains  a 
permanent  possession.  He  has  also  invented  a  certain 
open  file,  which  is  of  great  use  in  finishing  the  surface 
of  the  marble  ;  and  likewise  a  machine  for  making 
these  files  and  for  punching  holes  through  iron,  and 
he  demonstrated  its  efficiency  by  punching  a  hole 
through  an  iron  bar,  with  a  force  equivalent  to  ten 
thousand  pounds,  by  the  mere  application  of  a  part  of 
his  own  weight.  These  inventions,  he  says,  are  his 
amusement,  and  the  bent  of  his  nature  towards  sculp 
ture  must  indeed  have  been  strong,  to  counteract,  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  27 

an  American,  such  a  capacity  for  the  contrivance  of 
steam-engines 

I  had  no  idea  of  filling  so  many  pages  of  this  jour 
nal  with  the  sayings  and  characteristics  of  Mr.  Powers, 
but  the  man  and  his  talk  are  fresh,  original,  and  full 
of  bone  and  muscle,  and  I  enjoy  him  much. 

We  now  proceeded  to  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  spent 
several  hours  pleasantly  in  its  saloons  of  pictures.  I 
never  enjoyed  pictures  anywhere  else  as  I  do  in  Flor 
ence.  There  is  an  admirable  Judith  in  this  gallery 
by  Allori ;  a  face  of  great  beauty  and  depth,  and  her 
hand  clutches  the  head  of  Holofernes  by  the  hair  in  a 
way  that  startles  the  spectator.  There  are  two  peas 
ant  Madonnas  by  Murillo ;  simple  women,  yet  with  a 
thoughtful  sense  of  some  high  mystery  connected  with 
the  baby  in  their  arms. 

Raphael  grows  upon  me ;  several  other  famous 
painters  —  Guido,  for  instance  —  are  fading  out  of  my 
mind.  Salvator  Rosa  has  two  really  wonderful  land 
scapes,  looking  from  the  shore  seaward ;  and  Rubens, 
too,  likewise  on  a  large  scale,  of  mountain  and  plain. 
It  is  very  idle  and  foolish  to  talk  of  pictures  ;  yet, 
after  poring  over  them  and  into  them,  it  seems  a  pity 
to  let  all  the  thought  excited  by  them  pass  into  noth 
ingness. 

The  copyists  of  pictures  are  very  numerous,  both  in 
the  Pitti  and  Uffizzi  galleries ;  and,  unlike  sculptors, 
they  appear  to  be  on  the  best  of  terms  with  one  an 
other,  chatting  sociably,  exchanging  friendly  criticism, 
and  giving  their  opinions  as  to  the  best  mode  of  at 
taining  the  desired  effects.  Perhaps,  as  mere  copy- 


28  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ists,  they  escape  the  jealousy  that  might  spring  up 
between  rival  painters  attempting  to  develop  original 
ideas.  Miss  Howorth  says  that  the  business  of  copy 
ing  pictures,  especially  those  of  Raphael,  is  a  regular 
profession,  and  she  thinks  it  exceedingly  obstructive 
to  the  progress  or  existence  of  a  modern  school  of 
painting,  there  being  a  regular  demand  and  sure  sale 
for  all  copies  of  the  old  masters,  at  prices  proportioned 
to  their  merit ;  whereas  the  effort  to  be  original  in 
sures  nothing,  except  long  neglect,  at  the  beginning  of 
a  career,  and  probably  ultimate  failure,  and  the  neces 
sity  of  becoming  a  copyist  at  last.  Some  artists  em 
ploy  themselves  from  youth  to  age  in  nothing  else  but 
the  copying  of  one  single  and  self-same  picture  by 
Raphael,  and  grow  at  last  to  be  perfectly  mechanical, 
making,  I  suppose,  the  same  identical  stroke  of  the 
brush  in  fifty  successive  pictures. 

The  weather  is  very  hot  now,  —  hotter  in  the  sun 
shine,  I  think,  than  a  midsummer  day  usually  is  in 
America,  but  with  rather  a  greater  possibility  of 
being  comfortable  in  the  shade.  The  nights,  too, 
are  warm,  and  the  bats  fly  forth  at  dusk,  and  the 
fireflies  quite  light  up  the  green  depths  of  our  little 
garden.  The  atmosphere,  or  something  else,  causes 
a  sort  of  alacrity  in  my  mind  and  an  affluence  of 
ideas,  such  as  they  are ;  but  it  docs  not  thereby 
make  me  the  happier.  I  feel  an  impulse  to  be  at 
work,  but  am  kept  idle  by  the  sense  of  being  un 
settled  with  removals  to  be  gone  through,  over  and 
over  again,  before  I  can  shut  myself  into  a  quiet 
room  of  my  own,  and  turn  the  key.  I  need  monotony 


1858.]  ITALY.  29 

too,  an  eventless  exterior  life,  before  I  can  live  in 
the  world  within. 

June  15th.  — Yesterday  we  went  to  the  Uffizzi  gal 
lery,  and,  of  course,  I  took  the  opportunity  to  look 
a^ain  at  the  Venus  di  Medici  after  Powers's  attack 

O          *. 

upon  her  face.  Some  of  the  defects  he  attributed  to 
her  I  could  not  see  in  the  statue  ;  for  instance,  the 
ear  appeared  to  be  in  accordance  with  his  own  rule, 
the  lowest  part  of  it  being  about  in  a  straight  line 
with  the  upper  lip.  The  eyes  must  be  given  up,  as 
not,  when  closely  viewed,  having  the  shape,  the 
curve  outwards,  the  formation  of  the  lids,  that  eyes 
ought  to  have  ;  but  still,  at  a  proper  distance,  they 
seemed  to  have  intelligence  in  them  beneath  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  brow.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  the  sculptor  intentionally  made  every  feature 
what  it  is,  and  calculated  them  all  with  a  view  to 
the  desired  effect.  Whatever  rules  may  be  trans 
gressed,  it  is  a  noble  and  beautiful  face,  —  more  so, 
perhaps,  than  if  all  rules  had  been  obeyed.  I  wish 
Powers  would  do  his  best  to  fit  the  Venus's  figure 
(which  he  does  not  deny  to  be  admirable)  with  a 
face  which  he  would  deem  equally  admirable  and  in 
accordance  with  the  sentiment  of  the  form. 

We  looked  pretty  thoroughly  through  the  gallery, 
and  I  saw  many  pictures  that  impressed  me  ;  but 
among  such  a  multitude,  with  only  one  poor  rnind  to 
take  note  of  them,  the  stamp  of  each  new  impression 
helps  to  obliterate  a  former  one.  I  am  sensible, 
however,  that  a  process  is  going  on,  and  has  been 
ever  since  I  came  to  Italy,  that  puts  me  in  a  state  to 


30  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-B.OOKS.        [1858. 

see  pictures  with  less  toil,  and  more  pleasure,  and 
4makes  me  more  fastidious,  yet  more  sensible  of 
beauty  where  I  saw  none  before.  It  is  the  sign,  I 
presume,  of  a  taste  still  very  defective,  that  I  take  sin 
gular  pleasure  in  the  elaborate  imitations  of  Van 
Mieris,  Gerard  Dow,  and  other  old  Dutch  wizards,  who 
painted  such  brass  pots  that  you  can  see  your  face 
in  them,  and  such  earthen  pots  that  they  will  surely 
hold  water;  and  who  spent  weeks  and  months  in 
turning  a  foot  or  two  of  canvas  into  a  perfect  micro 
scopic  illusion  of  some  homely  scene.  For  my  part, 
I  wish  Raphael  had  painted  the  "  Transfiguration  "  in 
this  style,  at  the  same  time  preserving  his  breadth 
and  grandeur  of  design ;  nor  do  I  believe  that  there 
is  any  real  impediment  to  the  combination  of  the  two 
styles,  except  that  no  possible  space  of  human  life 
could  suffice  to  cover  a  quarter  part  of  the  canvas  of 
the  "  Transfiguration "  with  such  touches  as  Gerard 
Dow's.  But  one  feels  the  vast  scope  of  this  wonderful 
art,  when  we  think  of  two  excellences  so  far  apart  as 
that  of  this  last  painter  and  Raphael.  I  pause  a  good 
while,  too,  before  the  Dutch  paintings  of  fruit  and 
flowers,  where  tulips  and  roses  acquire  an  immortal 
bloom,  and  grapes  have  kept  the  freshest  juice  in 
them  for  two  or  three  hundred  years.  Often,  in  these 
pictures,  there  is  a  bird's-nest,  every  straw  perfectly 
represented,  and  the  stray  feather,  or  the  down  that 
the-  mother-bird  plucked  from  her  bosom,  with  the 
three  or  four  small  speckled  eggs,  that  seem  as  if 
they  might  be  yet  warm.  These  pretty  miracles  have 
their  use  in  assuring  us  that  painters  really  can  do 


1858.]  ITALY.  31 

something  that  takes  hold  of  us  in  our  most  matter- 
of-fact  moods;  whereas,  the  merits  of  the  grander 
style  of  art  may  be  beyond  our  ordinary  appreciation, 
and  leave  us  in  doubt  whether  we  have  not  befooled 
ourselves  with  a  false  admiration. 

Until  we  learn  to  appreciate  the  cherubs  and  angels 
that  Raphael  scatters  through  the  blessed  air,  in  a 
picture  of  the  "  Nativity,"  it  is  not  amiss  to  look  at  a 
Dutch  fly  settling  on  a  peach,  or  a  bumblebee  burying 
himself  in  a  flower. 

It  is  another  token  of  imperfect  taste,  no  doubt, 
that  queer  pictures  and  absurd  pictures  remain 
in  my  memory,  when  better  ones  pass  away  by 
the  score.  There  is  a  picture  of  Venus,  combing 
her  son  Cupid's  head  with  a  small-tooth  comb,  and 
looking  with  maternal  care  among  his  curls;  this  I 
shall  not  forget.  Likewise,  a  picture  of  a  broad, 
rubicund  Judith  by  Bardone,  —  a  widow,  of  fifty,  of  an 
easy,  lymphatic,  cheerful  temperament,  who  has  just 
killed  Holofernes,  and  is  as  self-complaisant  as  if  she 
had  been  carving  a  goose.  What  could  possibly  have 
stirred  up  this  pudding  of  a  woman  (unless  it  were  a 
pudding-stick)  to  do  such  a  deed  !  I  looked  with  much 
pleasure  at  an  ugly,  old,  fat,  jolly  Bacchus,  astride 
on  a  barrel,  by  Rubens ;  the  most  natural  and  life-like 
representation  of  a  tipsy  rotundity  of  flesh  that  it  is 
possible  to  imagine.  And  sometimes,  amid  these  sensual 
images,  I  caught  the  divine  pensiveness  of  a  Madon 
na's  face,  by  Raphael,  or  the  glory  and  majesty  of  the 
babe  Jesus  in  her  arm,  with  his  Father  shining  through 
him.  This  is  a  sort  of  revelation,  whenever  it  comes. 


32  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

This  morning,  immediately  after  breakfast,  I 
walked  into  the  city,  meaning  to  make  myself  better 
acquainted  with  its  appearance,  and  to  go  into  its 
yarious  churches;  but  it  soon  grew  so  hot,  that  I 
turned  homeward  again.  The  interior  of  the  Duomo 
was  deliciously  cool,  to  be  sure,  —  cool  and  dim,  after 
the  white-hot  sunshine  j  but  an  old  woman  began  to 
persecute  me,  so  that  I  came  away.  A  male  beggar 
drove  me  out  of  another  church  ;  and  I  took  refuge  in 
the  street,  where  the  beggar  and  1  would  have  been 
two  cinders  together,  if  we  had  stood  long  enough  on 
the  sunny  sidewalk.  After  my  five  summers'  ex 
perience  of  England,  I  may  have  forgotten  what  hot 
weather  is ;  but  it  does  appear  to  me  that  an  Ameri 
can  summer  is  not  so  fervent  as  this.  Besides  the 
direct  rays,  the  white  pavement  throws  a  furnace- 
heat  up  into  one's  face ;  the  shady  margin  of  the 
street  is  barely  tolerable ;  but  it  is  like  going  through 
the  ordeal  of  fire  to  cross  the  broad  bright  glare  of  an 
open  piazza.  The  narrow  streets  prove  themselves  a 
blessing  at  this  season,  except  when  the  sun  looks 
directly  into  them ;  the  broad  eaves  of  the  houses, 
too,  make  a  salvage  of  shade,  almost  always.  I  do 
not  know  what  becomes  of  the  street-merchants  at 
the  noontide  of  these  hot  days.  They  form  a 
numerous  class  in  Florence,  displaying  their  wares  — 
linen  or  cotton  cloth,  threads,  combs,  and  all  manner 
of  haberdashery  —  on  movable  counters  that  are 
borne  about  on  wheels.  In  the  shady  morning,  you 
see  a  whole  side  of  a  street  in  a  piazza  occupied  by 
them,  all  offering  their  merchandise  at  full  cry.  They 


1858.]  ITALY.  33 

dodge  as  they  can  from  shade  to  shade ;  but  at  last 
the  sunshine  floods  the  whole  space,  and  they  seem 
to  have  melted  away,  leaving  not  a  rag  of  themselves 
or  what  they  dealt  in. 

Cherries  are  very  abundant  now,  and  have  been  so 
ever  since  we  came  here,  in  the  markets  and  all 
about  the  streets.  They  are  of  various  kinds,  some 
exceedingly  large,  insomuch  that  it  is  almost  neces 
sary  to  disregard  the  old  proverb  about  making  two 
bites  of  a  cherry.  Fresh  figs  are  already  spoken  of, 
though  I  have  seen  none ;  but  I  saw  some  peaches 
this  morning,  looking  as  if  they  might  be  ripe. 

June  IQth.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Powders  called  to  see  us 
last  evening.  Mr.  Powers,  as  usual,  was  full  of  talk, 
and  gave  utterance  to  a  good  many  instructive  and 
entertaining  ideas. 

As  one  instance  of  the  little  influence  the  religion 
of  the  Italians  has  upon  their  morals,  he  told  a  story 
of  one  of  his  servants,  who  desired  leave  to  set  up  a 
small  shrine  of  the  Virgin  in  their  room  —  a  cheap 
print,  or  bas-relief,  or  image,  such  as  are  sold  every 
where  at  the  shops  —  and  to  burn  a  lamp  before  it ; 
she  engaging,  of  course,  to  supply  the  oil  at  her  own 
expense.  By  and  by,  her  oil-flask  appeared  to  possess 
a  miraculous  property  of  replenishing  itself,  and  Mr. 
Powers  took  measures  to  ascertain  where  the  oil 
came  from.  It  turned  out  that  the  servant  had  all 
the  time  been  stealing  the  oil  from  them,  and  keeping 
up  her  daily  sacrifice  and  worship  to  the  Virgin  by 
this  constant  theft.  .' .0  . 

His  talk  soon  turned  upon  sculpture,  and  he  spoke 
2*  c 


34  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

once  more  of  the  difficulty  imposed  upon  an  artist 
by  the  necessity  of  clothing  portrait  statues  in  the 
modern  costume.  I  find  that  he  does  not  approve 
either  of  nudity  or  of  the  Roman  toga  for  a  modern 
statue ;  neither  does  he  think  it  right  to  shirk  the 
difficulty  —  as  Chantrey  did  in  the  case  of  Washington 
—  by  enveloping  him  in  a  cloak ;  but  acknowledges 
the  propriety  of  taking  the  actual  costume  of  the  age 
and  doing  his  best  with  it.  He  himself  did  so  with  his 
own  Washington,  and  also  with  a  statue  that  he  made 
of  Daniel  Webster.  I  suggested  that  though  this 
costume  might  not  appear  ridiculous  to  us  now,  yet, 
two  or  three  centuries  hence,  it  would  create,  to  the 
people  of  that  day,  an  impossibility  of  seeing  the  real 
man  through  the  absurdity  of  his  envelopment,  after 
it  shall  have  entirely  grown  out  of  fashion  and 
remembrance ;  and  Webster  would  seem  as  absurd 
to  them  then  as  he  would  to  us  now  in  the  ma&querade 
of  some  bygone  day.  It  might  be  well,  therefore, 
to  adopt  some  conventional  costume,  never  actual, 
but  always  graceful  and  noble.  Besides,  Webster, 
for  example,  had  other  costumes  than  that  which  he 
wore  in  public,  and  perhaps  it  was  in  those  that  he 
lived  his  most  real  life  ;  his  dressing-gown,  his  drapery 
of  the  night,  the  dress  that  he  wore  on  his  fishing 
excursions ;  in  these  other  costumes  he  spent  three 
fourths  of  his  time,  and  most  probably  was  thus  ar 
rayed  when  he  conceived  the  great  thoughts  that  af 
terwards,  in  some  formal  and  outside  mood,  he  gave 
forth  to  the  public.  I  scarcely  think  I  was  right,  but 
am  not  sure  of  the  contrary.  At  any  rate,  I  know 


1858.]  ITALY.  35 

that  I  should  have  felt  much  more  sure  that  I  knew 
the  real  Webster,  if  I  had  seen  him  in  any  of  the 
above-mentioned  dresses,  than  either  in  his  swallow- 
tailed  coat  or  frock. 

Talking  of  a  taste  for  painting  and  sculpture,  Powers 
observed  that  it  was  something  very  different  and 
quite  apart  from  the  moral  sense,  and  that  it  was 
often,  perhaps  generally  possessed  by  unprincipled 
men  of  ability  and  cultivation.  I  have  had  this  per 
ception  myself.  A  genuine  love  of  painting  and  sculp 
ture,  and  perhaps  of  music,  seems  often  to  have  dis 
tinguished  men  capable  of  every  social  crime,  and  to 
have  formed  a  fine  and  hard  enamel  over  their  charac 
ters.  Perhaps  it  is  because  such  tastes  aro  artificial, 
the  product  of  cultivation,  and,  when  highly  developed, 
imply  a  great  remove  from  natural  simplicity. 

This  morning  I  went  with  U to  the  Uffizzi  gal 
lery,  and  again  looked  with  more  or  less  attention  at 
almost  every  picture  and  statue.  I  saw  a  little  pic 
ture  of  the  golden  age,  by  Zucchero,  in  which  the 
charms  of  youths  and  virgins  are  depicted  with  a  free 
dom  that  this  iron  age  can  hardly  bear  to  look  at. 
The  cabinet  of  gems  happened  to  be  open  for  the  ad 
mission  of  a  privileged  party,  and  we  likewise  went  in 
and  saw  a  brilliant  collection  of  goldsmiths'  work, 
among  which,  no  doubt,  were  specimens  from  such 
hands  as  Benvenuto  Cellini.  Little  busts  with  dia 
mond  eyes ;  boxes  of  gems ;  cups  carved  out  of  pre 
cious  material ;  crystal  vases,  beautifully  chased  and 
engraved,  and  sparkling  with  jewels ;  great  pearls,  in 
the  midst  of  rubies ;  opals,  rich  with  all  manner  of 


36  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l85a 

lovely  lights.  I  remember  Benvenuto  Cellini,  in  his 
memoirs,  speaks  of  manufacturing  such  playthings  as 
these. 

I  observed  another  characteristic  of  the  summer 
streets  of  Florence  to-day ;  tables,  movable  to  and 
fro,  on  wheels,  and  set  out  with  cool  iced  drinks  and 
cordials. 

June  11th.  —  My  wife  and  I  went,  this  morning,  to 
the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  and,  on  our  way  thither, 
went  into  the  Duomo,  where  we  found  a  deliciously 
cool  twilight,  through  which  shone  the  mild  gleam  of 
the  painted  windows.  I  cannot  but  think  it  a  pity 
that  St.  Peter's  is  not  lighted  by  such  windows  as 
these,  although  I  by  no  means  saw  the  glory  in  them 
now  that  I  have  spoken  of  in  a  record  of  my  former 
visit.  We  found  out  the  monument  of  Giotto,  a 
tablet,  and  portrait  in  bas-relief,  on  the  walk,  near  the 
entrance  of  the  Cathedral,,  on  the  right  hand ;  also,  a 
representation,  in  fresco,  of  a  knight  on  horseback, 
the  memorial  cf  one  John  Hawkwood,  close  by  the 
door,  to  the  left.  The  priests  were  chanting  a  service 
of  some  kind  or  other  in  the  choir,  terribly  inharmo 
nious,  and  out  of  tune 

On  reaching  the  Academy,  the  soldier  or  policeman 
at  the  entrance  directed  us  into  the  large  hall,  the 
walls  of  which  were  covered  on  both  sides  with  pictures, 
arranged  as  nearly  as  possible  in  a  progressive  series, 
H-jth  reference  to  the  date  of  the  painters  ;  so  that 
here  the  origin  and  procession  of  the  art  may  be 
traced  through  the  course  of,  at  least,  two  hundred 
years.  (Jiotto,  CiintAme,  and  others  of  unfamiliar 


1838.]  ITALY.  37 

names  to  me,  are  among  the  earliest ;  and,  except  as 
curiosities,  I  should  never  desire  to  look  once  at  them, 
nor  think  of  looking  twice.  They  seem  to  have  been 
executed  with  great  care  and  conscientiousness,  and 
the  heads  are  often  wrought  out  with  minuteness  and 
fidelity,  and  have  so  much  expression  that  they  tell 
their  own  story  clearly  enough ;  but  it  seems  not  to 
have  been  the  painter's  aim  to  effect  a  lifelike  illusion, 
the  background  and  accessories  being  conventional. 
The  trees  are  no  more  like  real  trees  than  the  feather 
of  a  pen,  and  there  is  no  perspective,  the  figure  of  the 
picture  being  shadowed  forth  on  a  surface  of  burnished 
gold.  The  effect,  when  these  pictures,  some  of  them 
very  large,  were  new  and  freshly  gilded,  must  have 
been  exceedingly  brilliant,  and  much  resembling,  on 
an  immensely  larger  scale,  the  rich  illuminations  in  an 
old  monkish  missal.  In  fact,  we  have  not  now,  in  pic 
torial  ornament,  anything  at  oil  comparable  to  what 
their  splendor  must  have  been.  I  was  most  struck 
with  a  picture,  by  Fabriana  Gentile,  of  the  Adoration 
of  the  Magi,  where  the  faces  and  figures  have  a  great 
deal  of  life  and  action,  and  even  grace,  and  where  the 
jewelled  crowns,  the  rich  embroidered  robes,  and  cloth 
of  gold,  and  all  the  magnificence  of  the  three  kings, 
are  represented  with  the  vividness  of  the  real  thing  : 
a  gold  sword-hilt,  for  instance,  or  a  pair  of  gold  spurs, 
being  actually  embossed  on  the  picture.  The  effect  is 
very  powerful,  and  though  produced  in  what  modern, 
painters  would  pronounce  an  unjustifiable  woy,  there 
is  yet  pictorial  art  enough  to  reconcile  it  to  the  spec 
tator's  mind.  Certainly,  the  people  of  the  Middle  Ages 


38  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858, 

knew  better  than  ourselves  what  is  magnificence,  and 
how  to  produce  it ;  and  what,  a  glorious  work  must 
that  have  been,  both  in  its  mere  sheen  of  burnished 
gold,  and  in  its  illuminating  art,  which  shines  thus 
through  the  gloom  of  perhaps  four  centuries. 

Fra  Angelico  is  a  man  much  admired  by  those 
who  have  a  taste  for  Pre-Raphaelite  painters ;  and, 
though  I  take  little  or  no  pleasure  in  his  works,  I  can 
see  that  there  is  great  delicacy  of  execution  in  his 
heads,  and  that  generally  he  produces  such  a  Christ, 
and  such  a  Virgin,  and  such  saints,  as  he  could  not 
have  foreseen,  except  in  a  pure  and  holy  imagination, 
nor  have  wrought  out  without  saying  a  prayer  between 
every  two  touches  of  his  brush.  I  might  come  to  like 
him,  in  time,  if  I  thought  it  worth  while  ;  but  it  is 
enough  to  have  an  outside  perception  of  his  kind  and 
degree  of  merit,  and  so  to  let  him  pass  into  the  garret 
of  oblivion,  where  many  things  as  good,  or  better,  aro 
piled  away,  that  our  own  age  may  not  stumble  over 
them.  Perugino  is  the  first  painter  whose  works  seem 
really  worth  preserving  for  the  genuine  merit  that  is 
in  them,  apart  from  any  quaintness  and  curiosity  of 
an  ancient  and  new-born  art.  Probably  his  religion 
was  more  genuine  than  Raphael's,  and  therefore  the 
Virgin  often  revealed  herself  to  him  in  a  loftier  and 
sweeter  face  of  divine  womanhood  than  all  the  genius 
of  Raphael  could  produce.  There  is  a  Crucifixion 
by  him  in  this  gallery,  which  made  me  partly  feel  as  if 
I  were  a  far-off  spectator,  —  no,  I  did  not  mean  a  Cru 
cifixion,  but  a  picture  of  Christ  dead,  lying,  with  a  calm, 
sweet  face,  on  his  mother's  knees  ["  A  Pieta  "]. 


1858.]  ITALY.  39 

The  most  inadequate  and  utterly  absurd  picture 
here,  or  in  any  other  gallery,  is  a  head  of  the  Eternal 
Father,  by  Carlo  Dolce;  it  looks  like  a  feeble  saint, 
on  the  eve  of  martyrdom,  and  very  doubtful  how  he 
shall  be  able  to  bear  it;  very  finely  and  prettily 
painted,  nevertheless. 

After  getting  through  the  principal  gallery  we  went 
into  a  smaller  room,  in  which  are  contained  a  great 
many  small  specimens  of  the  old  Tuscan  artists, 
among  whom  Fra  Angelico  makes  the  principal  figure. 
These  pictures  are  all  on  wood,  and  seem  to  have  been 
taken  from  the  shrines  and  altars  «of  ancient  churches  ; 
they  are  predellas  and  tryptiches,  or  pictures  on  three 
folding  tablets,  shaped  quaintly,  in  Gothic  peaks  or 
arches,  and  still  gleaming  with  backgrounds  of  antique 
gold.  The  wood  is  much  worm-eaten,  and  the  colors 
have  often  faded  or  changed  from  what  the  old  artists 
meant  them  to  be;  a  bright  angel  darkening  into 
what  looks  quite  as  much  like  the  Devil.  In  one  of 
Fra  Angelico's  pictures,  —  a  representation  of  the 
Last  Judgment,  —  he  has  tried  his  saintly  hand  at 
making  devils  indeed,  and  showing  them  busily  at 
work,  tormenting  the  poor,  damned  souls  in  fifty 
ghastly  ways.  Above  sits  Jesus,  with  the  throng  of 
blessed  saints  around  him,  and  a  flow  of  tender  and 
powerful  love  in  his  own  face,  that  ought  to  suffice  to 
redeem  all  the  damned,  and  convert  the  very  fiends, 
and  quench  the  fires  of  hell.  At  an}''  rate,  Fra  An 
gelico  had  a  higher  conception  of  his  Saviour  than 
Michael  Angelo. 

June  1  §th.  —  This  forenoon  we  have  been  to  the 


40  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  which  stands  on  the  site  of  an 
ancient  basilica,  and  was  itself  built  more  than  four 
centuries  ago.  The  fagade  is  still  an  ugly  height  of 
rough  brickwork,  as  is  the  case  with  the  Duonio,  and, 
I  think,  some  other  churches  in  Florence ;  the  design 
of  giving  them  an  elaborate  and  beautiful  finish 
having  been  delayed  from  cycle  to  cycle,  till  at  length 
the  day  for  spending  mines  of  wealth  on  churches  is 
gone  by.  The  interior  had  a  nave  with  a  flat  roof, 
divided  from  the  side-aisles  by  Corinthian  pillars,  and, 
at  the  farther  end,  a  raised  space  around  the  high 
altar.  The  pavement  is  a  mosaic  of  squares  of  black 
and  white  marble,  the  squares  meeting  one  another 
cornerwise ;  the  pillars,  pilasters,  and  other  architec 
tural  material  is  dark  brown  or  grayish  stone ;  and  the 
general  effect  is  very  sombre,  especially  as  the  church 
is  somewhat  dimly  lighted,  and  as  the  shrines  along 
the  aisles,  and  the  statues,  and  the  monuments  of 
whatever  kind,  look  dingy  with  time  and  neglect. 
The  nave  is  thickly  set  with  wooden  seats,  brown  and 
worn.  What  pictures  there  arc,  in  the  shrines  and 
chapels,  are  dark  and  faded.  On  the  whole,  the 
edifice  has  a  shabby  aspect.  On  each  side  of  the 
high  altar,  elevated  on  four  pillars  of  beautiful  marble, 
is  what  looks  like  a  great  sarcophagus  of  bronze. 
They  are.  in  fact,  pulpits,  and  are  ornamented  with 
mediaeval  bas-reliefs,  representing  scenes  in  the  life  of 
our  Saviour.  Murray  says  that  the  resting-place  of 
the  first  Cosmo  di  Medici,  the  old  banker,  who  so  man 
aged  his  wealth  as  to  get  the  posthumous  title  of 
<k  father  of  his  country,"  and  to  make  his  posterity  its 


1858.]  ITALY.  41 

reigning  princes,  is  in  front  of  the  high  altar,  marked 
by  red  and  green  porphyry  and  marble,  inlaid  into 
the  pavement.  We  looked,  but  could  not  see  it 
there. 

There  were  worshippers  at  some  of  the  shrines,  and 
persons  sitting  here  and  there  along  the  nave,  and  in. 
the  aisles,  wrapt  in  devotional  thought,  doubtless,  and 
sheltering  themselves  here  from  the  white  sunshine  of 
the  piazzas.  In  the  vicinity  of  the  choir  and  the  high 
altar,  workmen  were  busy  repairing  the  church,  or 
perhaps  only  making  arrangements  for  celebrating  the 
great  festival  of  St.  John. 

On  the  left  hand  of  the  choir  is  what  is  called  the 
old  sacristy,  with  the  peculiarities  or  notabilities  of 
which  I  am  not  acquainted.  On  the  right  hand  is  the 
new  sacristy,  otherwise  called  the  Capella  dei  Deposite, 
or  Chapel  of  the  Buried,  built  by  Michael  Angelo,  to 
contain  two  monuments  of  the  Medici  family.  The 
interior  is  of  somewhat  severe  and  classic  architecture, 
the  walls  and  pilasters  being  of  dark  stone,  and 
surmounted  by  a  dome,  beneath  which  is  a  row  of  win 
dows,  quite  round  the  building,  throwing  their  light 
down  far  beneath,  upon  niches  of  white  marble.  These 
niches  are  ranged  entirely  around  the  chapel,  arid 
might  have  sufficed  to  contain  more  than  all  the  Medici 
monuments  that  the  world  would  ever  care  to  have. 
Only  two  of  these  niches  are  filled,  however.  In  one 
of  them  sits  Giuliano  di  Medici,  sculptured  by  Michael 
Angelo,  —  a  figure  of  dignity,  which  would  perhaps  be 
very  striking  in  any  othar  presence  than  that  of  the 
statue  which  occupies  the  corresponding  niche.  At 


42  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  feet  of  Giuliano  recline  two  allegorical  statues,  Day 
and  Night,  whose  meaning  there  I  do  not  know,  and 
perhaps  Michael  Angelo  knew  as  little.  As  the  great 
sculptor's  statues  are  apt  to  do,  they  fling  their  limbs 
abroad  with  adventurous  freedom.  Below  the  corre 
sponding  niche,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  chapel, 
recline  two  similar  statues,  representing  Morning  and 
Evening,  sufficiently  like  Day  and  Night  to  be  their 
brother  and  sister ;  all,  in  truth,  having  sprung  from 

the  same  father 

But  the  statue  that  sits  above  these  two  latter 
allegories,  Morning  and  Evening,  is  like  no  other  that 
ever  came  from  a  sculptor's  hand.  It  is  the  one  work 
worthy  of  Michael  Angelo's  reputation,  and  grand 
enough  to  vindicate  for  him  all  the  genius  that  the 
world  gave  him  credit  for.  And  yet  it  seems  a  simple 
thing  enough  to  think  of  or  to  execute  ;  merely  a  sit 
ting  figure,  the  face  partly  overshadowed  by  a  he]met, 
one  hand  supporting  the  chin,  the  other  resting  on  the 
thigh.  But  after  looking  at  it  a  little  while,  the  spec 
tator  ceases  to  think  of  it  as  a  marble  statue  ;  it  comes 
to  life,  and  you  see  that  the  princely  figure  is  brooding 
over  some  great  design,  which,  when  he  has  arranged 
in  his  own  mind,  the  world  will  be  fain  to  execute  for 
him.  No  such  grandeur  and  majesty  has  elsewhere 
been  put  into  human  shape.  It  is  all  a  miracle  ;  the 
deep  repose,  and  the  deep  life  within  it.  It  is  as  much 
a  miracle  to  have  achieved  this  as  to  make  a  statue 
that  would  rise  up  and  walk.  The  face,  when  one 
gazes  earnestly  into  it,  beneath  the  shadow  of  its 
helmet,  is  seen  to  be  calmly  sombre ;  a  mood  which,  I 


1858.]  ITALY.  43 

think,  is  generally  that  of  the  rulers  of  mankind, 
except  in  moments  of  vivid  action.  This  statue  is  one 
of  the  things  which  I  look  at  with  highest  enjoyment, 
but  also  with  grief  and  impatience,  because  I  feel  that 
I  do  not  come  at  all  which  it  involves,  and  that  by 
and  by  I  must  go  away  and  leave  it  forever.  How 
wonderful !  To  take  a  block  of  marble,  and  convert  it 
wholly  into  thought,  and  to  do  it  through  all  the 
obstructions  and  impediments  of  drapery  ;  for  there  is 
nothing  nude  in  this  statue  but  the  face  and  hands. 
The  vest  is  the  costume  of  Michael  Angelo's  century. 
This  is  what  I  always  thought  a  sculptor  of  true  genius 
should  be  able  to  do,  —  to  show  the  man  of  whatever 
epoch,  nobly  and  heroically,  through  the  costume 
which  he  might  actually  have  worn. 

The  statue  sits  within  a  square  niche  of  white 
marble,  and  completely  fills  it.  It  seems  to  me  a  pity 
that  it  should  be  thus  confined.  At  the  Crystal 
Palace,  if  I  remember,  the  effect  is  improved  by  a  free 
surrounding  space.  Its  naturalness  is  as  if  it  came< 
out  of  the  marble  of  its  own  accord,  with  all  its 
grandeur  hanging  heavily  about  it,  and  sat  down 
there  beneath  its  weight.  I  cannot  describe  it.  It 
is  like  trying  to  stop  the  ghost  of  Hamlet's  father,  by 
crossing  spears  before  it. 

Communicating  with  the  sacristy  is  the  Medicean 
Chapel,  which  was  built  more  than  two  centuries  ago, 
for  the  reception  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ;  arrangements 
having  been  made  about  that  time  to  steal  this  most 
sacred  relic  from  the  Turks.  The  design  failing,  the 
chapel  was  converted  by  Cosmo  II.  into  a  place  of 


44  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

sepulture  for  the  princes  of  his  family.  It  is  a  very 
grand  and  solemn  edifice,  octagonal  in  shape,  with  a 
lofty  dome,  within  which  is  a  series  of  brilliant  fres 
cos,  painted  not  more  than  thirty  years  ago.  These 
pictures  are  the  only  portion  of  the  adornment  of  the 
chapel  which  interferes  with  the  sombre  beauty  of  the 
general  effect ;  for  though  the  walls  are  incrusted, 
from  pavement  to  dome,  with  marbles  of  inestimable 
cost,  and  it  is  a  Florentine  mosaic  on  a  grander  scale 
than  was  ever  executed  elsewhere,  the  result  is  not 
gaudy,  as  in  many  of  the  Roman  chapels,  but  a  dark 
and  melancholy  richness.  The  architecture  strikes 
me  as  extremely  fine ;  each  alternate  side  of  the  octa 
gon  being  an  arch,  rising  as  high  as  the  cornice  of  the 
lofty  dome,  and  forming  the  frame  of  a  vast  niche.  All 
the  dead  princes,  no  doubt,  according  to  the  general 
design,  were  to  have  been  honored  with  statues  within 
this  stately  mausoleum ;  but  only  two  —  those  of  Fer 
dinand  I.  and  Cosmo  II.  —  seem  to  have  been  placed 
.here.  They  were  a  bad  breed,  and  few  of  them 
deserved  any  better  monument  than  a  dung-hill ;  and 
yet  they  have  this  grand  chapel  for  the  family  at 
large,  and  yonder  grand  statue  for  one  of  its  most 
worthless  members.  I  am  glad  of  it ;  and  as  for  the 
statue,  Michael  Angelo  wrought  it  through  the  efficacy 
of  a  kingly  idea,  which  had  no  reference  to  the 
individual  whose  name  it  bears. 

In  the  piazza,  adjoining  the  church,  is  a  statue  of 
the  first  Cosmo,  the  old  banker,  in  Roman  costume, 
seated,  and  looking  like  a  man  fit  to  hold  authority. 
No,  I  mistake ;  the  statue  is  of  John  di  Medici,  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  45 

father  of  Cosmo,  and  himself  no  banker,  but  a  sol 
dier. 

June  2lst. — Yesterday,  after  dinner,  we  went  with 
the  two  eldest  children,  to  the  Boboli  Gardens.  .... 
We  entered  by  a  gate,  nearer  to  our  house  than  that 
by  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  found  ourselves  almost  imme 
diately  among  embowered  walks  of  box  and  shrubbery, 
and  little  wildernesses  of  trees,  with  here  and  there  a 
seat  under  an  arbor,  and  a  marble  statue,  gray  with 
ancient  weather-stains.  The  site  of  the  garden  is  a 
very  uneven  surface,  and  the  paths  go  upward  and 
downward,  and  ascend,  at  their  ultimate  point,  to  a 
base  of  what  appears  to  be  a  fortress,  commanding  the 
city.  A  good  many  of  the  Florentines  were  rambling 
about  the  gardens,  like  ourselves ;  little  parties  of 
school-boys,  fathers  and  mothers,  with  their  youth 
ful  progeny;  young  men  in  couples,  looking  closely 
into  every  female  face  ;  lovers,  with  a  maid  or  two  at 
tendant  on  the  young  lady.  All  appeared  to  enjoy 
themselves,  especially  the  children,  dancing  on  the 
esplanades,  or  rolling  down  the  slopes  of  the  hills; 
and  the  loving  pairs,  whom  it  was  rather  embarrassing 
to  come  upon  unexpectedly,  sitting  together  on  the 
stone  seat  of  an  arbor,  with  clasped  hands,  a  passion 
ate  solemnity  in  the  young  man's  face,  and  a  downcast 
pleasure  in  the  lady's.  Policemen,  in  cocked  hats  and 
epaulets,  cross-belts,  and  swords,  were  scattered  about 
the  grounds,  but  interfered  with  nobody,  though  they 
seemed  to  keep  an  eye  on  all.  A  sentinel  stood  in  the 
hot  sunshine,  looking  down  over  the  garden  from  the 
ramparts  of  the  fortress. 


46  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

For  my  part,  in  this  foreign  country,  I  have  no 
objection  to  policemen  or  any  other  minister  of  author 
ity  ;  though  I  remember,  in  America,  I  had  an  innate 
antipathy  to  constables,  and  always  sided  with  the 
mob  against  law.  This  was  very  wrong  and  foolish, 
considering  that  I  was  one  of  the  sovereigns ;  but  a 
sovereign,  or  any  number  of  sovereigns,  or  the  twenty- 
millionth  part  of  a  sovereign,  does  not  love  to  find 
himself,  as  an  American  must,  included  within  the 
delegated  authority  of  his  own  servants. 

There  is  a  sheet  of  water  somewhere  in  the  Boboli 
Gardens,  inhabited  by  swans;  but  this  we  did  not 
see.  We  found  a  smaller  pond,  however,  set  in 
marble,  and  surrounded  by  a  parapet,  and  alive  with 
a  multitude  of  fish.  There  were  minnows  by  the 

thousand,  and    a  good    many  gold-fish ;    and  J , 

who  had  brought  some  bread  to  feed  the  swans, 
threw  in  handfuls  of  crumbs  for  the  benefit  of  these 
finny  people.  They  seemed  to  be  accustomed  to 
such  courtesies  on  the  part  of  visitors ;  and  imme 
diately  the  surface  of  the  water  was  blackened,  at 
the  spot  where  each  crumb  fell,  with  shoals  of  min 
nows,  thrusting  one  another  even  above  the  surface 
in  their  eagerness  to  snatch  it.  Within  the  depths 
of  the  pond,  the  yellowish-green  water  —  its  hue  being 
precisely  that  of  the  Aruo  —  would  be  reddened  dusk 
ily  with  the  larger  bulk  of  two  or  three  gold-fishes, 
who  finally  poked  their  great  snouts  up  among  the 
minnows,  but  generally  missed  the  crumb.  Beneath 
the  circular  margin  of  the  pond,  there  are  little 
arches,  into  the  shelter  of  which  the  fish  retire,  when 


1858.]  ITALY.  4T 

the  noonday  sun  burns  straight  down  into  their  dark 
waters.  We  went  on  through  the  garden-paths, 
shadowed  quite  across  by  the  high  walls  of  box, 
and  reached  an  esplanade,  whence  we  had  a  good 
view  of  Florence,  with  the  bare  brown  ridges  on  the 
northern  side  of  the  Arno,  and  glimpses  of  the  river 
itself,  flowing  like  a  street,  between  two  rows  of 
palaces.  A  great  way  off,  too,  we  saw  some  of  the 
cloud-like  peaks  of  the  Apennines,  and,  above  them, 
the  clouds  into  which  the  sun  was  descending,  look 
ing  quite  as  substantial  as  the  distant  mountains. 
The  city  did  not  present  a  particularly  splendid 
aspect,  though  its  great  Duomo  was  seen  in  the 
middle  distance,  sitting  in  its  circle  of  little  domes, 
with  the  tall  campanile  close  by,  and  within  one  or 
two  hundred  yards  of  it,  the  high,  cumbrous  bulk 
of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  with  its  lofty,  rnachicolated, 
and  battlemented  tower,  very  picturesque,  yet  looking 
exceedingly  like  a  martin-box,  on  a  pole.  ,  There 
were  other  domes  and  towers  and  spires,  and  here 
and  there  the  distinct  shape  of  an  edifice ;  but  the 
general  picture  was  of  a  contiguity  of  red,  earthen 
roofs,  filling  a  not  very  broad  or  extensive  valley, 
among  dry  and  ridgy  hills,  with  a  river-gleam 

lightening   up   the    landscape  a  little.     U took 

out  her  pencil  and  tablets,  and  began  to  sketch  the 
tower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio ;  in  doing  which,  she 
immediately  became  an  object  of  curiosity  to  some 
little  boys  and  larger  people,  who  failed  not,  under 
such  pretences  as  taking  a  grasshopper  off  her  dress, 
or  no  pretence  at  all,  to  come  and  look  over  her 


48  FKENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

shoulder.  There  is  a  kind  of  familiarity  among  these 
Florentines,  which  is  not  meant  to  be  discourteous, 
and  ought  to  be  taken  in  good  part. 

We  continued  to  ramble  through  the  gardens,  in 
quest  of  a  good  spot  from  which  to  see  the  sunset, 
and  at  length  found  a  stone  bench,  on  the  slope  of 
a  hill,  whence  the  entire  cloud  and  sun  scenery  was 
fully  presented  to  us.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  were 
statues,  and  among  them  a  Pegasus,  with  wings  out 
spread  ;  and,  a  little  beyond,  the  garden-front  of  the 
Pitti  Palace,  which  looks  a  little  less  like  a  state 
prison  here,  than  as  it  fronts  the  street.  Girls  and 
children,  and  young  men  and  old,  were  taking  their 
pleasure  in  our  neighborhood  ;  and,  just  before  us, 
a  lady  stood  talking  with  her  maid.  By  and  by,  we 
discovered  her  to  be  Miss  Howorth.  There  was  a 
misty  light,  streaming  down  on  the  hither  side  of 
the  ridge  of  hills,  that  was  rather  peculiar  ;  but  the 
most  reniarkable  thing  was  the  shape  into  which  the 
clouds  gathered  themselves,  after  the  disappearance 
of  the  sun.  It  was  like  a  tree,  with  a  broad  and 
heavy  mass  of  foliage,  spreading  high  upward  on  the 
sky,  and  a  dark  and  well-defined  trunk,  which  rooted 
itself  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon. 

This  morning  we  went  to  the  Pitti  Palace,  The 
air  was  very  sultry,  and  the  pavements,  already 
heated  with  the  sun,  made  the  space  between  the 
buildings  seem  like  a  close  room.  The  earth,  I 
think,  is  too  much  stoned  out  of  the  streets  of  an 
Italian  city,  —  paved,  like  those  of  Florence,  quite 
across,  with  broad  flagstones,  to  the  line  where  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  49 

stones  of  the  houses  on  each  side  are  piled  up. 
Thunder  rumbled  over  our  heads,  however,  and  the 
clouds  were  so  dark  that  we  scarcely  hoped  to  reach 
the  palace  without  feeling  the  first  drops  of  the 
shower.  The  air  still  darkened  and  darkened,  so 
that  by  the  time  we  arrived  at  the  suite  of  picture- 
rooms  the  pictures  seemed  all  to  be  changed  to 
Rembrandts ;  the  shadows  as  black  as  midnight, 
with  only  some  highly  illuminated  portions  gleaming 
out.  The  obscurity  of  the  atmosphere  made  us  sen 
sible  how  splendid  is  the  adornment  of  these  saloons. 
For  the  gilded  cornices  shone  out,  as  did  the  gilding 
of  the  arches  and  wreathed  circles  that  divide  the 
ceiling  into  compartments,  within  which  the  frescos 
are  painted,  and  whence  the  figures  looked  dimly 
down,  like  gods  out  of  a  mysterious  sky.  The  white 
marble  sculptures  also  gleamed  from  their  height, 
where  winged  cupids  or  cherubs  gambolled  aloft  in 
bas-reliefs ;  or  allegoric  shapes  reclined  along  the 
cornices,  hardly  noticed,  when  the  daylight  comes 
brightly  into  the  window.  On  the  walls,  all  the  rich 
picture-frames  glimmered  in  gold,  as  did  the  frame 
work  of  the  chairs,  and  the  heavy  gilded  pedestals 
of  the  marble,  alabaster,  and  mosaic  tables.  These 
are  very  magnificent  saloons ;  and  since  I  have  begun 
to  speak  of  their  splendor,  I  may  as  well  add  that 
the  doors  are  framed  in  polished,  richly  veined  marble, 
and  the  walls  hung  with  scarlet  damask. 

It  was  useless  to  try  to  sec  the  pictures.  All  the 
artists  engaged  in  copying  laid  aside  their  brushes ; 
and  we  looked  out  into  the  square  before  the  palace, 

VOL.  II.  3  D 


50  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

where  a  mighty  wind  sprang  up,  and  quickly  raised 
a  prodigious  cloud  of  dust.  It  hid  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street,  and  was  carried,  in  a  great  dusky  whirl, 
higher  than  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  higher  than  the 
top  of  the  Pitti  Palace  itself.  The  thunder  muttered 
and  grumbled,  the  lightning  now  and  then  flashed, 
and  a  few  rain-drops  pattered  against  the  windows; 
but,  for  a  long  time,  the  shower  held  off.  At  last  it 
came  down  in  a  stream,  and  lightened  the  air  to 
such  a  degree  that  we  could  see  some  of  the  pictures, 
especially  those  of  Rubens,  and  the  illuminated  parts 
of  Salvator  Rosa's,  and,  best  of  all,  Titian's  "Magdalen," 
the  one  with  golden  hair,  clustering  round  her  naked 
body.  The  golden  hair,  indeed,  seemed  to  throw 
out  a  glory  of  its  own.  This  Magdalen  is  very  coarse 
and  sensual,  with  only  an  impudent  assumption  of 
penitence  and  religious  sentiment,  scarcely  so  deep 
as  the  eyelids ;  but  it  is  a  splendid  picture,  neverthe 
less,  with  those  naked,  lifelike  arms,  and  the  hands 
that  press  the  rich  locks  about  her,  and  so  carefully 
permit  those  voluptuous  breasts  to  be  seen.  She  a 
penitent !  She  would  shake  off  all  pretence  to  it  as 
easily  as  she  would  shake  aside  that  clustering 
hair Titian  must  have  been  a  very  good-for- 
nothing  old  man. 

I  looked  again  at  Michael  Angelo's  Fates  to-day ; 
but  cannot  satisfactorily  make  out  what  he  meant  by 
them.  One  of  them  —  she  who  holds  the  distaff —  haa 
her  mouth  open,  as  if  uttering  a  cry,  and  might  be 
fancied  to  look  somewhat  irate.  The  second,  who 
holds  the  thread,  has  a  pensive  air,  but  is  still,  I 


1858.  J  ITALY.  51 

think,  pitiless  at  heart.  The  third  sister  looks  closely 
and  coldly  into  the  eyes  of  the  second,  meanwhile 
cutting  the  thread  with  a  pair  of  shears.  Michael 
Angelo,  if  I  may  presume  to  say  so,  wished  to  vary 
the  expression  of  these  three  sisters,  and  give  each  a 
different  one,  but  did  not  see  precisely  how,  inasmuch 
as  all  the  fatal  Three  are  united,  heart  and  soul,  in 
one  purpose.  It  is  a  very  impressive  group.  But,  as 
regards  the  interpretation  of  this,  or  of  any  other 
profound  picture,  there  are  likely  to  be  as  many 
interpretations  as  there  are  spectators.  It  is  very- 
curious  to  read  criticisms  upon  pictures,  and  upon 
the  same  face  in  a  picture,  and  by  men  of  taste  and 
feeling,  and  to  find  what  different  conclusions  they 
arrive  at.  Each  man  interprets  the  hieroglyphic  in 
his  own  way ;  and  the  painter,  perhaps,  had  a  mean 
ing  which  none  of  them  have  reached;  or  possibly 
he  put  forth  a  riddle  without  himself  knowing  the 
solution.  There  is  such  a  necessity,  at  all  events,  of 
helping  the  painter  out  with  the  spectator's  own 
resources  of  feeling  and  imagination,  that  you  can 
never  be  sure  how  much  of  the  picture  you  have 
yourself  made.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  public  is, 
to  a  certain  extent,  right  and  sure  of  its  ground,  when 
it  declares,  through  a  series  of  ages,  that  a  certain 
picture  is  a  great  work.  It  is  so  ;  a  great  symbol, 
proceeding  out  of  a  great  mind ;  but  if  it  means  one 
thing,  it  seems  to  mean  a  thousand,  and,  often,  oppo 
site  things. 

June  27th. — I  have  had  a  heavy  cold   and  fever 
almost  throughout  the  past  week,  and  have  thereby 


52  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

lost  the  great  Florentine  festivity,  the  Feast  of  St. 
John,  which  took  place  on  Thursday  last,  with  the 
fireworks  and  illuminations  the  evening  before,  and 
the  races  and  court  ceremonies  on  the  day  itself. 
However,  unless  it  were  more  characteristic  and  pecu 
liar  than  the  Carnival,  I  have  not  missed  anything 
very  valuable. 

Mr.  Powers  called  to  see  me  one  evening,  and 
poured  out,  as  usual,  a  stream  of  talk,  both  racy  and 
oracular  in  its  character.  Speaking  of  human  eyes, 
he  observed  that  they  did  not  depend  for  their  ex 
pression  upon  color,  nor  upon  any  light  of  the  soul 
beaming  through  them,  nor  any  glow  of  the  eyeball, 
nor  upon  anything  but  the  form  and  action  of  the 
surrounding  muscles.  He  illustrates  it  by  saying, 
that  if  the  eye  of  a  wolf,  or  of  whatever  fiercest 
animal,  could  be  placed  in  another  setting,  it  would 
be  found  capable  of  the  utmost  gentleness  of  expres 
sion.  "  You  yourself,"  said  he,  "  have  a  very  bright 
and  sharp  look  sometimes }  but  it  is  not  in  the  eye 
itself."  His  own  eyes,  as  I  could  have  sworn,  were 
glowing  all  the  time  he  spoke  ;  and,  remembering  how 
many  times  I  have  seemed  to  see  eyes  glow,  and  blaze, 
and  flash,  and  sparkle,  and  melt,  and  soften  ;  and  how 
all  poetry  is  illuminated  with  the  light  of  ladies'  eyes ; 
and  how  many  people  have  been  smitten  by  the 
lightning  of  an  eye,  whether  in  love  or  anger,  it  was 
difficult  to  allow  that  all  this  subtlest  and  keenest  fire 
is  illusive,  not  even  phosphorescent,  and  that  any 
other  jelly  in  the  same  socket  would  serve  as  well  as 
the  brightest  eye.  Nevertheless,  he  must  be  right ; 


1858.  J  ITALY.  53 

of  course  he  must,  and  I  am  rather  ashamed  ever 
to  hare  thought  otherwise.  Where  should  the  light 
come  from  ?  Has  a  man  a  flame  inside  of  his  head  1 
Does  his  spirit  manifest  itself  in  the  semblance  of 
flame  1  The  moment  we  think  of  it,  the  absurdity 
becomes  evident.  I  am  not  quite  sure,  however,  that 
the  outer  surface  of  the  eye  may  not  reflect  more  light 
in  some  states  of  feeling  than  in  others ;  the  state  of 
the  health,  certainly,  has  an  influence  of  this  kind. 

I  asked  Powers  what  he  thought  of  Michael  Angelo's 
statue  of  Lorenzo  di  Medici.  He  allowed  that  its 
effect  was  very  grand  and  mysterious  ;  but  added 
that  it  owed  this  to  a  trick,  —  the  effect  being  pro 
duced  by  the  arrangement  of  the  hood,  as  he  called  it, 
or  helmet,  which  throws  the  upper  part  of  the  face 
into  shadow.  The  niche  in  which  it  sits  has,  I  sup 
pose,  its  part  to  perform  in  throwing  a  still  deeper 
shadow.  It  is  very  possible  that  Michael  Angelo  may 
have  calculated  upon  this  effect  of  sombre  shadow, 
and  legitimately,  I  think ;  but  it  really  is  not  worthy 
of  Mr.  Powers  to  say  that  the  whole  effect  of  this 
mighty  statue  depends,  not  on  the  positive  efforts  of 
Michael  Angelo's  chisel,  but  on  the  absence  of  light  in 
a  space  of  a  few  inches.  He  wrought  the  whole  statue 
in  harmony  with  that  small  part  of  it  which  he  leaves 
to  the  spectator's  imagination,  and  if  he  had  erred  at 
any  point,  the  miracle  would  have  been  a  failure  ;  so 
that,  working  in  marble,  he  has  positively  reached  a 
degree  of  excellence  above  the  capability  of  marble, 
sculpturing  his  highest  touches  upon  air  and  duski 
ness. 


54  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Mr.  Powers  gave  some  amusing  anecdotes  of  his 
early  life,  when  he  was  a  clerk  in  a  store  in  Cincin 
nati.  There  was  a  museum  opposite,  the  proprietor 
of  which  had  a  peculiar  physiognomy  that  struck 
Powers,  insomuch  that  he  felt  impelled  to  make  con 
tinual  caricatures  of  it.  He  used  to  draw  them  upon 
the  door  of  the  museum,  and  became  so  familiar  with 
the  face,  that  he  could  draw  them  in  the  dark ;  so 
that,  every  morning,  here  was  this  absurd  profile  of 
himself,  greeting  the  museum-man  when  he  came  to 
open  his  establishment.  Often,  too,  it  would  reappear 
within  an  hour  after  it  was  rubbed  out.  The  man 
was  infinitely  annoyed,  and  made  all  possible  efforts 
to  discover  the  unknown  artist,  but  in  vain ;  and 
finally  concluded,  I  suppose,  that  the  likeness  broke 
out  upon  the  door  of  its  own  accord,  like  the  nettle- 
rash.  Some  years  afterwards,  the  proprietor  of  the 
museum  engaged  Powers  himself  as  an  assistant ;  and 
one  day  Powers  asked  him  if  he  remembered  this 
mysterious  profile.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  did  you  know 
who  drew  them  1 "  Powers  took  a  piece  of  chalk,  and 
touched  off  the  very  profile  again,  before  the  man's 
eyes.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  if  I  had  known  it  at  the  time, 
I  would  have  broken  every  bone  in  your  body  ! " 

Before  he  began  to  work  in  marble,  Powers  had 
greater  practice  and  success  in  making  wax  figures, 
and  he  produced  a  work  of  this  kind  called  "  The  In 
fernal  Regions,"  which  he  seemed  to  imply  had  been 
very  famous.  He  said  he  once  wrought  a  face  in  wax 
which  was  life  itself,  having  made  the  eyes  on  purpose 
for  it,  and  put  in  every  hair  in  the  eyebrows  individ- 


1858.]  ITALY.  55 

ually,  and  finished  the  whole  with  similar  minuteness  ; 
so  that,  within  the  distance  of  a  foot  or  two,  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  that  the  face  did  not  live. 

I  have  hardly  ever  before  felt  an  impulse  to  write 
down  a  man's  conversation  as  I  do  that  of  Mr.  Powers. 
The  chief  reason  is,  probably,  that  it  is  so  possible  to 
do  it,  his  ideas  being  square,  solid,  and  tangible,  and 
therefore  readily  grasped  and  retained.  He  is  a  very 
instructive  man,  and  sweeps  one's  empty  and  dead  no 
tions  out  of  the  way  with  exceeding  vigor  ;  but  when 
you  have  his  ultimate  thought  and  perception,  you 
feel  inclined  to  think  and  see  a  little  further  for  your 
self.  He  sees  too  clearly  what  is  within  his  range  to 
be  aware  of  any  region  of  mystery  beyond.  Probably, 
however,  this  latter  remark  does  him  injustice.  I  like 
the  man,  and  am  always  glad  to  encounter  the  mill- 
stream  of  his  talk Yesterday  he  met  me  in  the 

street  (dressed  in  his  linen  blouse  and  slippers,  with 
a  little  bit  of  a  sculptor's  cap  on  the  side  of  his  head), 
and  gave  utterance  to  a  theory  of  colds,  and  a  disserta 
tion  on  the  bad  effects  of  draughts,  whether  of  cold  air 
or  hot,  and  the  dangers  of  transfusing  blood  from  the 
veins  of  one  living  subject  to  those  of  another.  On 
the  last  topic,  he  remarked  that  if  a  single  particle  of 
air  found  its  way  into  the  veins,  along  with  the  trans 
fused  blood,  it  caused  convulsions  and  inevitable 
death;  otherwise  the  process  might  be  of  excellent 
effect. 

Last  evening,  we  went  to  pass  the  evening  with 
Miss  Blagden,  who  inhabits  a  villa  at  Bellosquardo, 
about  a  mile  outside  of  the  walls.  The  situation  is 


56  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       Jl858. 

very  lofty,  and  there  are  good  views  from  every  win 
dow  of  the  house,  and  an  especially  fine  one  of  Flor 
ence  and  the  hills  beyond,  from  the  balcony  of  the 
drawing-room.  By  and  by  came  Mr.  Browning,  Mr. 
Trollope,  Mr.  Boott  and  his  young  daughter,  and  two 
or  three  other  gentlemen 

Browning  was  very  genial  and  full  of  life,  as  usual, 
but  his  conversation  has  the  effervescent  aroma  which 
you  cannot  catch,  even  if  you  get  the  very  words  that 
seem  to  be  imbued  with  it.  He  spoke  most  raptur 
ously  of  a  portrait  of  Miss  Browning,  which  an  Ital 
ian  artist  is  painting  for  the  wife  of  an  American  gen 
tleman,  as  a  present  from  her  husband.  The  success 
was  already  perfect,  although  there  had  been  only  two 
sittings  as  yet,  and  both  on  the  same  day  ;  and  in  this 

relation,  Mr.  Browning  remarked  that  P ,  the 

American  artist,  had  had  no  less  than  seventy-three 
sittings  of  him  for  a  portrait.  In  the  result,  every 
hair  and  speck  of  him  was  represented ;  yet,  as  I  in 
ferred  from  what  he  did  not  say,  this  accumulation  of 
minute  truths  did  not,  after  all,  amount  to  the  true 
whole. 

I  do  not  remember  much  else  that  Browning  said, 
except  a  playful  abuse  of  a  little  King  Charles  spaniel, 
named  Frolic,  Miss  Blagden's  lap-dog,  whose  venerable 
age  (he  is  eleven  years  old)  ought  to  have  pleaded  in 
his  behalf.  Browning's  nonsense  is  of  very  genuine 
and  excellent  quality,  the  true  babble  and  effervescence 
of  a  bright  and  powerful  mind  ;  and  he  lets  it  play 
among  his  friends  with  the  faith  and  simplicity  of  a 
child.  He  must  be  an  amiable  man.  I  should  like 


1858.]  ITALY.  5T 

him  much,  and  should  make  him  like  me,  if  oppor 
tunities  were  favorable. 

I  conversed  principally  with  Mr.  Trollope,  the  son, 
I  believe,  of  the  Mrs.  Trollope  to  whom  America  owes 
more  for  her  shrewd  criticisms  than  we  are  ever  likely 
to  repay.  Mr.  Trollope  is  a  very  sensible  and  culti 
vated  man,  and,  I  suspect,  an  author  :  at  least,  there 
is  a  literary  man  of  repute  of  this  name,  though  I 
have  never  read  his  works.  He  has  resided  in  Italy 
eighteen  years.  It  seems  a  pity  to  do  this.  It  needs 
the  native  air  to  give  life  a  reality ;  a  truth  which  I 
do  not  fail  to  take  home  regretfully  to  myself,  though 
without  feeling  much  inclination  to  go  back  to  the 
realities  of  my  own. 

We  had  a  pleasant  cup  of  tea,  and  took  a  moonlight 
view  of  Florence  from  the  balcony 

June  2Sth.  — Yesterday^  afternoon,  J and  I 

went  to  a  horse-race,  which  took  place  in  the  Corso 
and  contiguous  line  of  streets,  in  further  celebration 
of  the  Feast  of  St.  John.  A  crowd  of  people  was  al 
ready  collected,  all  along  the  line  of  the  proposed  race, 
as  early  as  six  o'clock ;  and  there  were  a  great  many 
carriages  driving  amid  the  throng,  open  barouches 
mostly,  in  which  the  beauty  and  gentility  of  Flor 
ence  were  freely  displayed.  It  was  a  repetition  of 
the  scene  in  the  Corso  at  Eome,  at  Carnival  time, 
without  the  masks,  the  fun,  and  the  confetti.  The 
Grand  Duke  and  Duchess  and  the  Court  likewise  made 
their  appearance  in  as  many  as  seven  or  eight  coaches- 
and-six,  each  with  a  coachman,  three  footmen,  and  a 
postilion  in  the  royal  livery,  and  attended  by  a  troop 
3* 


58  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

of  horsemen  in  scarlet  coats  and  cocked  hats.  I  did 
not  particularly  notice  the  Grand  Duke  himself;  but, 
in  the  carriage  behind  him,  there  sat  only  a  lady,  who 
favored  the  people  along  the  street  with  a  constant 
succession  of  bows,  repeated  at  such  short  intervals, 
and  so  quickly,  as  to  be  little  more  than  nods ;  there 
fore  not  particularly  graceful  or  majestic.  Having 
the  good  fortune  to  be  favored  with  one  of  these  nod% 
I  lifted  my  hat  in  response,  and  may  therefore  claim 
a  bowing  acquaintance  with  the  Grand  Duchess.  She 
is  a  Bourbon  of  the  Naples  family,  and  was  a  pale, 
handsome  woman,  of  princely  aspect  enough.  The 
crowd  evinced  no  enthusiasm,  nor  the  slightest  feeling 
of  any  kind,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  presence  of 
their  rulers ;  and,  indeed,  I  think  I  never  saw  a  crowd 
so  well  behaved  ;  that  is,  with  so  few  salient  points, 
so  little  ebullition,  so  absolutely  tame,  as  the  Floren 
tine  one.  After  all,  and  much  contrary  to  my  expec 
tations,  an  American  crowd  has  incomparably  more 
life  than  any  other  ;  and,  meeting  on  any  casual  occa 
sion,  it  will  talk,  laugh,  roar,  and  be  diversified  with 
a  thousand  characteristic  incidents  and  gleams  and 
shadows,  that  you  see  nothing  of  here.  The  people 
seems  to  have  no  part  even  in  its  own  gatherings.  It 
comes  together  merely  as  a  mass  of  spectators,  and 
must  not  so  much  as  amuse  itself  by  any  activity  of 
mind. 

The  race,  which  was  the  attraction  that  drew  us  all 
together,  turned  out  a  very  pitiful  affair.  When  we 
had  waited  till  nearly  dusk,  the  street  being  thronged 
quite  across,  insomuch  that  it  seemed  impossible  that 


1858.]  ITALY.  59 

it  should  be  cleared  as  a  race-course,  there  came  sud 
denly  from  every  throat  a  quick,  sharp  exclamation, 
combining  into  a  general  shout.  Immediately  the 
crowd  pressed  back  on  each  side  of  the  street ;  a 
moment  afterwards,  there  was  a  rapid  pattering  of 
hoofs  over  the  earth  with  which  the  pavement  was 
strewn,  and  I  saw  the  head  and  back  of  a  horse  rush 
ing  past.  A  few  seconds  more,  and  another  horse 
followed ;  and  at  another  little  interval,  a  third.  This 
was  all  that  we  had  waited  for;  all  that  I  saw,  or 
anybody  else,  except  those  who  stood  on  the  utmost 
verge  of  the  course,  at  the  risk  of  being  trampled 
down  and  killed.  Two  men  were  killed  in  this  way 
^on  Thursday,  and  certainly  human  life  was  never 
spent  for  a  poorer  object.  The  spectators  at  the 
windows,  to  be  sure,  having  the  'horses  in  sight  for  a 
longer  time,  might  get  a  little  more  enjoyment  out  of 
the  affair.  By  the  by,  the  most  picturesque  aspect  of 
the  scene  was  the  life  given  to  it  by  the  many  faces, 
some  of  them  fair  ones,  that  looked  out  from  window 
and  balcony,  all  along  the  curving  line  of  lofty  palaces 
and  edifices,  between  which  the  race-course  lay ;  and 
from  nearly  every  window,  and  over  every  balcony, 
was  flung  a  silken  texture,  or  cloth  of  brilliant  hue,  or 
piece  of  tapestry  or  carpet,  or  whatever  adornment  of 
the  kind  could  be  had,  so  as  to  dress  up  the  street  in 
gala  attire.  But  the  Feast  of  St.  John,  like  the  Carni 
val,  is  but  a  meagre  semblance  of  festivity,  kept  alive 
factitiously,  and  dying  a  lingering  death  of  centuries. 
It  takes  the  exuberant  mind  and  heart  of  a  people  to 
keep  its  holidays  alive. 


60  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l858. 

I  do  not  know  whether  there  be  any  populace  in 
Florence,  but  I  saw  none  that  I  recognized  as  such, 
on  this  occasion.  All  the  people  were  respectably 
dressed  and  perfectly  well  behaved  j  and  soldiers  and 
priests  were  scattered  abundantly  among  the  throng. 
On  my  way  home,  I  saw  the  Teatro  Goldoni,  which  is 
in  our  own  street,  lighted  up  for  a  representation  this 
Sunday  evening.  It  shocked  my  New  England  preju 
dices  a  little. 

This  forenoon,  my  wife  and  I  went  to  the  Church  of 
Santa  Croce,  the  great  monumental  deposit  of  Flor 
entine  worthies.  The  piazza  before  it  is  a  wide, 
gravelled  square,  where  the  liberty  of  Florence,  if  it 
really  ever  had  any  genuine  liberty,  came  into  exist 
ence  some  hundreds  of  years  ago,  by  the  people's 
taking  its  own  rights  into  its  hands,  and  putting  its 
own  immediate  will  in  execution.  The  piazza  has  not 
much  appearance  of  antiquity,  except  that  the  fagade 
of  one  of  the  houses  is  quite  covered  with  ancient 
frescos,  a  good  deal  faded  and  obliterated,  yet  with 
traces  enough  of  old  glory  to  show  that  the  colors 
must  have  been  well  laid  on. 

The  front  of  the  church,  the  foundation  of  which 
was  laid  six  centuries  ago,  is  still  waiting  for  its  casing 
of  marbles,  and  I  suppose  will  wait  forever,  though  a 
carpenter's  staging  is  now  erected  before  it,  as  if  with 
the  purpose  of  doing  something. 

The  interior  is  spacious,  the  length  of  the  church 
being  between  four  and  five  hundred  feet.  There  is  a 
nave,  roofed  with  wooden  cross-beams,  lighted  by  a 
clere-story  aud  supported  on  each  side  by  seven  great 


1858.]  ITALY.  61 

pointed  arches,  which  rest  upon  octagonal  pillars. 
The  octagon  seems  to  be  a  favorite  shape  in  Florence. 
These  pillars  were  clad  in  yellow  and  scarlet  damask, 
in  honor  of  the  Feast  of  St.  John.  The  aisles,  on 
each  side  of  the  nave,  are  lighted  with  high  and  some 
what  narrow  windows  of  painted  glass,  the  effect  of 
which,  however,  is  much  diminished  by  the  flood  of 
common  daylight  that  comes  in  through  the  windows 
of  the  clere-story.  It  is  like  admitting  too  much  of  the 
light  of  reason  and  worldly  intelligence  into  the  mind, 
instead  of  illuminating  it  wholly  through  a  religious 
medium.  The  many-hued  saints  and  angels  lose  their 
mysterious  effulgence,  when  we  get  white  light  enough, 
and  find  we  see  all  the  better  without  their  help. 

The  main  pavement  of  the  church  is  brickwork  ; 
but  it  is  inlaid  with  many  sepulchral  slabs  of  marble, 
on  some  of  which  knightly  or  priestly  figures  are 
sculptured  in  bas-relief.  In  both  of  the  side-aisles 
there  are  saintly  shrines,  alternating  with  mural 
monuments,  some  of  which  record  names  as  illus 
trious  as  any  in  the  world.  As  you  enter,  the  first 
monument  on  your  right  is  that  of  Michael  Angelo, 
occupying  the  ancient  burial  site  of  his  family.  The 
general  design  is  a  heavy  sarcophagus  of  colored 
marble,  with  the  figures  of  Sculpture,  Painting,  and 
Architecture  as  mourners,  and  Michael  Angelo's  bust 
above,  the  whole  assuming  a  pyramidal  form.  You 
pass  a  shrine,  within  its  framework  of  marble  pillars 
and  a  pediment,  and  come  next  to  Dante's  monu 
ment,  a  modern  work,  with  likewise  its  sarcophagus, 
and  some  huge,  cold  images  weeping  and  sprawling 


62  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

over  it,  and  an  unimpressive  statue  of  Dante  sitting 
above. 

Another  shrine  intervenes,  and  next  you  see  the 
tomb  of  Alfieri,  erected  to  his  memory  by  the  Count 
ess  of  Albany,  who  pays,  out  of  a  woman's  love,  the 
honor  which  his  country  owed  him.  Her  own  monu 
ment  is  in  one  of  the  chapels  of  the  transept. 

Passing  the  next  shrine  you  see  the  tomb  of  Mac- 
chiavelli,  which,  I  think,  was  constructed  not  many 
years  after  his  death.  The  rest  of  the  monuments, 
on  this  side  of  the  church,  commemorate  people  of 
less  than  world-wide  fame  j  and  though  the  opposite 
side  has  likewise  a  monument  alternating  writh  each 
shrine,  I  remember  only  the  names  of  Raphael  Mor- 
ghem  and  of  Galileo.  The  tomb  of  the  latter  is  over 
against  that  of  Michael  Angelo,  being  the  first  large 
tomb  on  the  left-hand  wall  as  you  enter  the  church. 
It  has  the  usual  heavy  sarcophagus,  surmounted  by  a 
bust  of  Galileo,  in  the  habit  of  his  time,  and  is,  of 
course,  duly  provided  with  mourners  in  the  shape 
of  Science  or  Astronomy,  or  some  such  cold-hearted 
people.  I  wish  every  sculptor  might  be  at  once 
imprisoned  for  life  who  shall  hereafter  chisel  an  alle 
goric  figure ;  and  as  for  those  who  have  sculptured 
them  heretofore,  let  them  be  kept  in  purgatory  till  the 
marble  shall  have  crumbled  away.  It  is  especially 
absurd  to  assign  to  this  frozen  sisterhood  of  the 
allegoric  family  the  office  of  weeping  for  the  dead, 
inasmuch  as  they  have  incomparably  less  feeling  than 
a  lump  of  ice,  which  might  contrive  to  shed  a  tear 
if  the  sun  shone  on  it.  But  they  seem  to  let  them- 


J858.]  ITALY.  63 

selves  out,  like  the  hired  mourners  of  an  English 
funeral,  for  the  very  reason  that,  having  no  interest 
in  the  dead  person,  nor  any  affections  or  emotions 
whatever,  it  costs  them  no  wear  and  tear  of  heart. 
All  round  both  transepts  of  the  church  there  is  a 
series  of  chapels,  into  most  of  which  we  went,  and 
generally  found  an  inscrutably  dark  picture  over  the 
altar,  and  often  a  marble  bust  or  two,  or  perhaps  a 
mediaeval  statue  of  a  saint  or  a  modern  monumental 
bas-relief  in  marble,  as  white  as  new-fallen  snow. 
A  chapel  of  the  Bonapartes  is  here,  containing 
memorials  of  two  female  members  of  the  family.  In 
•  several  chapels,  moreover,  there  were  some  of  those 
distressing  frescos  by  Giotto,  Cimabue,  or  their  com 
peers,  which,  whenever  I  see  them,  —  poor,  faded  relics, 
looking  as  if  the  Devil  had  been  rubbing  and  scrub 
bing  them  for  centuries,  in  spite  against  the  saints,  — 
my  heart  sinks  and  my  stomach  sickens.  There  is  no 
other  despondency  like  this ;  it  is  a  new  shade  of 
human  misery,  akin  to  the  physical  disease  that  comes 
from  dry-rot  in  a  wall.  These  frescos  are  to  a  church 
what  dreary,  old  remembrances  are  to  a  mind ;  the 
drearier  because  they  were  once  bright :  Hope  fading 
into  Disappointment,  Joy  into  Grief,  and  festal  splen 
dor  passing  into  funereal  duskiness,  and  saddening  you 
all  the  more  by  the  grim  identity  that  you  find  to  exist . 
between  gay  things  and  sorrowful  ones.  Only  wait 
long  enough,  and  they  turn  out  to  be  the  very  same. 

All  the  time  we  were  in  the  church  some  great 
religious  ceremony  had  been  going  forward ;  the 
organ  playing  and  the  white-robed  priests  bowing, 


64  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

gesticulating,  and  making  Latin  prayers  at  the  high 
altar,  where  at  least  a  hundred  wax  tapers  were 
burning  in  constellations.  Everybody  knelt,  except 
ourselves,  yet  seemed  not  to  be  troubled  by  the 
echoes  of  our  passing  footsteps,  nor  to  require  that 
we  should  pray  along  with  them.  They  consider  us 
already  lost  irrevocably,  no  doubt,  and  therefore  right 
enough  in  taking  no  heed  of  their  devotions  ;  not  but 
what  we  take  so  much  heed,  however,  as  to  give  the 
smallest  possible  disturbance.  By  and  by  we  sat 
down  in  the  nave  of  the  church,  till  the  ceremony 
should  be  concluded  ;  and  then  my  wife  left  me  to  go 
in  quest  of  yet  another  chapel,  where  either  Cimabue 
or  Giotto,  or  both,  have  left  some  of  their  now  ghastly 
decorations.  While  she  was  gone  I  threw  my  eyes 
about  the  church,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that, 
in  spite  of  its  antiquity,  its  size,  its  architecture,  its 
painted  windows,  its  tombs  of  great  men,  and  all  the 
reverence  and  interest  that  broods  over  them,  it  is  not 
an  impressive  edifice.  Any  little  Norman  church  in 
England  would  impress  me  as  much,  and  more. 
There  is  something,  I  do  not  know  what,  but  it  is 
in  the  region  of  the  heart,  rather  than  in  the  intellect, 
that  Italian  architecture,  of  whatever  age  or  style, 
never  seems  to  reach. 

Leaving  the  Santa  Croce,  we  went  next  in  quest  of 
the  Riccardi  Palace.  On  our  way,  in  the  rear  of  the 
Grand  Ducal  Piazza,  we  passed  by  the  Pargello,  former 
ly  the  palace  of  the  Podesta  of  Florence,  and  now  con 
verted  into  a  prison.  It  is  an  immense  square  edifice 
of  dark  stone,  with  a  tall,  lank  tower  rising  high  above 


1858.]  ITALY.  65 

it  at  one  corner.  Two  stone  lions,  symbols  of  the  city, 
lash  their  tails  and  glare  at  the  passers-by;  and  all 
over  the  front  of  the  building  windows  are  scattered 
irregularly,  and  grated  with  rusty  iron  bars;  also 
there  are  many  square  holes,  which  probably  admit  a 
little  light  and  a  breath  or  two  of  air  into  prisoners' 
cells.  It  is  a  very  ugly  edifice,  but  looks  antique,  and 
as  if  a  vast  deal  of  history  might  have  been  transacted 
within  it,  or  have  beaten,  like  fierce  blasts,  against  its 
dark,  massive  walls,  since  the  thirteenth  century. 
When  I  first  saw  the  city  it  struck  me  that  there  were 
few  marks  of  antiquity  in  Florence  ;  but  I  am  now  in 
clined  to  think  otherwise,  although  the  bright  Italian 
atmosphere,  and  the  general  squareness  and  monotony 
of  the  Italian  architecture,  have  their*  effect  in  appar 
ently  modernizing  everything.  But  everywhere  we 
see  the  ponderous  Tuscan  basements  that  never  can 
decay,  and  which  will  look,  five  hundred  years  hence, 
as  they  look  now ;  and  one  often  passes  beneath  an 
abbreviated  remnant  of  what  was  once  a  lofty  tower, 
perhaps  three  hundred  feet  high,  such  as  used  to  be 
numerous  in  Florence  when  each  noble  of  the  city  had 
his  own  warfare  to  wage ;  and  there  are  patches  of 
sculpture  that  Iqok  old  on  houses,  the  modern  stucco 
of  which  causes  them  to  look  almost  new.  Here  and 
there  an  unmistakable  antiquity  stands  in  its  own  im 
pressive  shadow  ;  the  Church  of  Or  San  Michele,  for 
instance,  once  a  market,  but  which  grew  to  be  a  church 
by  some  inherent  fitness  and  inevitable  consecration. 
It  has  not  the  least  the'  aspect  of  a  church,  being  high 
and  square,  like  a  mediaeval  palace ;  but  deep  and 


66 


FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 


high  niches  are  let  into  its  walls,  within  which  stand 
great  statues  of  saints,  masterpieces  of  Donatello,  and 
other  sculptors  of  that  age,  before  sculpture  began  to 
be  congealed  by  the  influence  of  Greek  art. 

The  Riecardi  Palace  is  at  the  corner  of  the  Via 
Larga.  It  was  built  by  the  first  Cosmo  di  Medici,  the 
old  banker,  more  than  four  centuries  ago,  and  was 
long  the  home  of  the  ignoble  race  of  princes  which  he 
left  behind  him.  It  looks  fit  to  be  still  the  home  of  a 
princely  race,  being  nowise  dilapidated  nor  decayed 
externally,  nor  likely  to  be  so,  its  high  Tuscan  base 
ment  being  as  solid  as  a  ledge  of  rock,  and  its  upper 
portion  not  much  less  so,  though  smoothed  into  an 
other  order  of  stately  architecture.  Entering  its 
court  from  the  Tia  Larga,  we  found  ourselves  beneath 
a  pillared  arcade,  passing  round  the  court  like  a  clois 
ter  ;  and  on  the  walls  of  the  palace,  under  this  succes 
sion  of  arches,  were  statues,  bas-reliefs,  and  sarcophagi, 
in  which,  first,  dead  Pagans  had  slept,  and  then  dead_ 
Christians,  before  the  sculptured  coffins  were  brought 
hither  to  adorn  the  palace  of  the  Medici.  In  the 
most  prominent  place  was  a  Latin  inscription. of  great 
length  and  breadth,  chiefly  in  praise  of  old  Cosmo  and 
his  deeds  and  wisdom.  This  mansion  gives  the  vis 
itor  a  stately  notion  of  the  life  of  a  commercial  man  in 
the  days  when  merchants  were  princes ;  not  that  it 
seems  to  be  so  wonderfully  extensive,  nor  so  very 
grand,  for  I  suppose  there  are  a  dozen  Roman  palaces 
that  excel  it  in  both  these  particulars.  Still,  we  can 
not  but  be  conscious  that  it  must  have -been,  in  some 
sense,  a  great  man  who  thought  of  founding  a  home- 


1858.]  ITALY. 


67 


stead  like  this,  and  was  capable  of  filling  it  with  his 
personality,  as  the  hand  fills  a  glove.  It  has  been 
found  spacious  enough,  since  Cosmo's  time,  for  an 
emperor  and  a  pope  and  a  king,  all  of  whom  have  been 
guests  in  this  house.  After  being  the  family  mansion 
of  the  Medici  for  nearly  two  centuries,  it  was  sold  to 
the  Riccardis,  but  was  subsequently  bought  of  them 
by  the  government,  and  it  is  now  occupied  by  public 
offices  and  societies. 

After  sufficiently  examining  the  court  and  its  antiq 
uities,  we  ascended  a  noble  staircase  that  passes,  by 
broad  flights  and  square  turns,  to  the  region  above  the 
basement.  Here  the  palace  is  cut  up  and  portioned 
off  into  little  rooms  and  passages,  and  everywhere 
there  were  desks,  inkstands,  and  men,  with  pens  in 
their  fingers  or  behind  their  ears.  We  were  shown 
into  a  little  antique  chapel,  quite  covered  with  fres 
cos  in  the  Giotto  style,  but  painted  by  a  certain  Gon- 
zoli.  They  were  in  pretty  good  preservation,  and,  in 
fact,  I  am  wrong  in  comparing  them  to  Giotto's  works, 
inasmuch  as  there  must  have  been  nearly  two  hun 
dred  years  between  the  two  artists.  The  chapel  was 
furnished  with  curiously  carved  old  chairs,  and  looked 
surprisingly  venerable  within  its  little  precinct. 

We  were  next  guided  into  the  grand  gallery,  a  hall 
of  respectable  size,  with  a  frescoed  ceiling,  on  which  is 
represented  the  blue  sky,  and  various  members  of  the 
Medici  family  ascending  through  it  by  the  help  of 
angelic  personages,  who  seem  only  to  have  waited  for 
their  society  to  be  perfectly  happy.  At  least,  this  was 
the  meaning,  so  far  as  I  could  make  it  out.  Along 


68  FRENCH  AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

one  side  of  the  gallery  were  oil  pictures  on  looking- 
glasses,  rather  good  than  otherwise  ;  bat  Rome,  with 
her  palaces  and  villas,  takes  the  splendor  out  of  all 
this  sort  of  thing  elsewhere. 

On  our  way  home,  and  on  our  own  side  of  the 
Ponte  Vecchio,  we  passed  the  Palazzo  Guicciardini, 
the  ancient  residence  of  the  historian  of  Italy,  who 
was  a  politic  statesman  of  his  day,  and  probably  as 
cruel  and  unprincipled  as  any  of  those  whose  deeds 
he  has  recorded.  Opposite,  across  the  narrow  way, 
stands  the  house  of  Macchiavelli,  who  was  his  friend, 
and,  I  should  judge,  an  honester  man  than  he.  The 
house  is  distinguished  by  a  marble  tablet,  let  into  the 
wall,  commemorative  of  Macchiavelli,  but  has  nothing 
antique  or  picturesque  about  it,  being  in  a  contiguous 
line  with  other  smooth-faced  and  stuccoed  edifices. 

June  oOt/i.  —  Yesterday,  at  three  o'clock  P.  M.,  I 
went  to  see  the  final  horse-race  of  the  Feast  of  St. 
John,  or  rather  to  see  the  concourse  of  people  and 
grandees  whom  it  brought  together.  I  took  my  stand 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  spot  whence  the  Grand  Duke 
and  his  courtiers  view  the  race,  and  from  this  point 
the  scene  was  rather  better  worth  looking  at  than 
from  the  street-comers  whence  I  saw  it  before.  The 
vista  of  the  street,  stretching  far  adown  between  two 
rows  of  lofty  edifices,  was  really  gay  and  gorgeous 
with  the  silks,  damasks,  and  tapestries  of  all  bright 
hues,  that  flaunted  from  windows  and  balconies, 
whence  ladies  looked  forth  and  looked  down,  them 
selves  making  the  liveliest  part  of  the  show.  The 
whole  capacity  of  the  street  swarmed  with  moving 


1858.]  ITALY.  G9 

heads,  leaving  scarce  room  enough  for  the  carriages, 
which,  as  on  Sunday,  passed  up  and  down,  until  the 
signal  for  the  race  was  given.  Equipages,  too,  were 
constantly  arriving  at  the  door  of  the  building  which 
communicates  with  the  open  loggia,  where  the  Grand 
Ducal  party  sit  to  see  and  to  be  seen.  Two  sentinels 
were  standing  at  the  door,  and  presented  arms  as  each 
courtier  or  ambassador,  or  whatever  dignity  it  might 
be,  alighted.  Most  of  them  had  on  gold-embroidered 
court-dresses ;  some  of  them  had  military  uniforms, 
and  medals  in  abundance  at  the  breast ;  and  ladies 
also  came,  looking  like  heaps  of  lace  and  gauze  in  the 
carriages,  but  lightly  shaking  themselves  into  shape 
as  they  went  up  the  steps.  By  and  by  a  trumpet 
sounded,  a  drum  beat,  and  again  appeared  a  succes 
sion  of  half  a  dozen  royal  equipages,  each  with  its  six 
horses,  its  postilion,  coachman,  and  three  footmen, 
grand  with  cocked  hats  and  embroidery ;  and  the 
gray-headed,  bowing  Grand  Duke  and  his  nodding 
Grand  Duchess  as  before.  The  Noble  Guard  ranged 
themselves  on  horseback  opposite  the  loggia ;  but. 
there  was  no  irksome  and  impertinent  show  of  cere 
mony  and  restraint  upon  the  people.  The  play-guard 
of  volunteer  soldiers,  who  escort  the  President  of  the 
United  States  in  his  Northern  progresses,  keep  back 
their  fellow-citizens  much  more  sternly  and  immiti- 
gably  than  the  Florentine  guard  kept  back  the  popu 
lace  from  its  despotic  sovereign. 

This  morning  J and  I  have  been  to  the  Uffizzi 

gallery.  It  was  his  first*  visit  there,  and  he  passed 
a  sweeping  condemnation  upon  everything  he  saw, 


70  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

except  a  fly,  a  snail-shell,  a  caterpillar,  a  lemon,  a 
piece  of  bread,  and  a  wineglass,  in  some  of  the  Dutch 
pictures.  The  Venus  di  Medici  met  with  no  sort  of 
favor.  His  feeling  of  utter  distaste  reacted  upon  me, 
and  I  was  sensible  of  the  same  weary  lack  of  appre 
ciation  that  used  to  chill  me  through,  in  my  earlier 
visits  to  picture-galleries  ;  the  same  doubt,  moreover, 
whether  we  do  not  bamboozle  ourselves  in  the  greater 
part  of  the  admiration  which  we  learn  to  bestow.  I 
looked  with  some  pleasure  at  one  of  Correggio's  Ma 
donnas  in  the  Tribune,  —  no  divine  and  deep-thoughted 
mother  of  the  Saviour,  but  a  young  woman  playing 
with  her  first  child,  as  gay  and  thoughtless  as  itself. 
I  looked  at  Michael  Angelo's  Madonna,  in  which 
William  Ware  saw  such  prophetic  depth  of  feeling; 
but  I  suspect  it  was  one  of  the  many  instances  in 
which  the  spectator  sees  more  than  the  painter  ever 
dreamed  of. 

Straying  through  the  city,  after  leaving  the  gallery, 
we  went  into  the  Church  of  Or  San  Michele,  and  saw 
in  its  architecture  the  traces  of  its  transformation 
from  a  market  into  a  church.  In  its  pristine  state  it 
consisted  of  a  double  row  of  three  great  open  arches, 
with  the  wind  blowing  through  them,  and  the  sun' 
shine  falling  aslantwise  into  them,  while  the  bustle 
of  the  market,  the  sale  of  fish,  flesh,  or  fruit  went  on 
within,  or  brimmed  over  into  the  streets  that  enclosed 
them  on  every  side.  But,  four  or  five  hundred  years 
ago,  the  broad  arches  were  built  up  with  stone-work ; 
windows  were  pierced  through  and  filled  with  painted 
glass ;  a  high  altar,  in  a  rich  style  of  pointed  Gothic, 


1858.]  ITALY.  71 

was  raised ;  shrines  and  confessionals  were  set  up ; 
and  here  it  is,  a  solemn  and  antique  church,  where  a 
man  may  buy  his  salvation  instead  of  his  dinner. 
At  any  rate,  the  Catholic  priests  will  insure  it  to  him, 
and  take  the  price.  The  sculpture  within  the  beauti 
fully  decorated  niches,  on  the  outside  of  the  church,  is 
very  curious  and  interesting.  The  statues  of  those  old 
saints  seem  to  have  that  charm  of  earnestness  which 
so  attracts  the  admirers  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  painters. 

It  appears  that  a  picture  of  the  Virgin  used  to  hang 
against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  market-place  while  it 
was  still  a  market,  and  in  the  year  1291  several  mir 
acles  were  wrought  by  it,  insomuch  that  a  chapel  was 
consecrated  for  it.  So  many  worshippers  came  to  the 
shrine  that  the  business  of  the  market  was  impeded, 
and  ultimately  the  Virgin  and  St.  Michael  won  the 
whole  space  for  themselves.  The  upper  part  of  the 
edifice  was  at  that  time  a  granary,  and  is  still  used 
for  other  than  religious  purposes.  This  church  was 
one  spot  to  which  the  inhabitants  betook  themselves 
much  for  refuge  and  divine  assistance  during  the 
great  plague  described  by  Boccaccio. 

July  2d.  —  We  set  out  yesterday  morning  to  visit 
the  Palazzo  Buonarotti,  Michael  Angelo's  ancestral 

home It  is  in  the  Via  Ghibellina,  an  ordinary- 

looking,  three-story  house,  with  broad-brimmed  eaves, 
a  stuccoed  front,  and  two  or  three  windows  painted  in 
fresco,  besides  the  real  ones.  Adown  the  street,  there 
is  a  glimpse  of  the  hills  outside  of  Florence.  The  sun 
shining  heavily  directly  upon  the  front,  we  rang  the 
door-bell,  and  then  drew  back  into  the  shadow  that 


72  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

fell  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  After  we 
had  waited  some  time  a  man  looked  out  from  an 
upper  window,  and  a  woman  from  a  lower  one,  and 
informed  us  that  we  could  not  be  admitted  now,  nor 
for  two  or  three  months  to  come,  the  house  being 
under  repairs.  It  is  a  pity,  for  I  wished  to  see 
Michael  Angelo's  sword  and  walking-stick  and  old  slip 
pers,  and  whatever  other  of  his  closest  personalities 

are  to  be  shown 

We  passed  into  the  Piazza  of  the  Grand  Duke,  and 
looked  into  the  court  of  the  Palazzo  Veccliio,  with  its 
beautifully  embossed  pillars ;  and,  seeing  just  beyond 
the  court  a  staircase  of  broad  and  easy  steps,  we 
ascended  it  at  a  venture.  Upward  and  upward  we 
went,  flight  after  flight  of  stairs,  and  through  passages, 
till  at  last  we  found  an  official  who  ushered  us  into 
a  large  saloon.  It  was  the  Hall  of  Audience.  Its 
heavily  embossed  ceiling,  rich  with  tarnished  gold, 
was  a  feature  of  antique  magnificence,  and  the  only 
one  that  it  retained,  the  floor  being  paved  with  tiles 
and  the  furniture  scanty  or  none.  There  were,  how 
ever,  three  cabinets  standing  against  the  walls,  two  of 
which  contained  very  curious  and  exquisite  carvings 
and  cuttings  in  ivory  ;  some  of  them  in  the  Chinese 
style  of  hollow,  concentric  balls ;  others,  really  beauti 
ful  works  of  art :  little  crucifixes,  statues,  saintly  and 
knightly,  and  cups  enriched  with  delicate  bas-reliefs. 
The  custode  pointed  to  a  small  figure  of  St.  Sebastian, 
and  also  to  a  vase  around  which  the  reliefs  seemed  to 
assume  life.  Both  these  specimens,  ii€  said,  were  by 
Beiivenuto  Cellini,  and  there  were  many  others  that 


1858.]  ITALY.  73 

might  well  have  been  wrought  by  his  famous  hand. 
The  third  cabinet  contained  a  great  number  and 
variety  of  crucifixes,  chalices,  and  whatever  other 
vessels  are  needed  in  altar  service,  exquisitely  carved 
out  of  amber.  They  belong  to  the  chapel  of  the  pal 
ace,  and  into  this  holy  closet  we  were  now  conducted. 
It  is  large  enough  to  accommodate  comfortably 
perhaps  thirty  worshippers,  and  is  quite  covered  with 
frescos  by  Ghirlandaio  in  gftod  preservation,  and  with 
remnants  enough  of  gilding  and  bright  color  to  show 
how  splendid  the  chapel  must  have  been  when  the 
Medicean  Grand  Dukes  used  to  pray  here.  The  altar 
is  still  ready  for  service,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  some 
of  the  wax  tapers  were  not  burning ;  but  Lorenzo  the 
Magnificent  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

The  custode  now  led  us  back  through  the  Hall  of 
Audience  into  a  smaller  room,  hung  with  pictures 
chiefly  of  the  Medici  and  their  connections,  among 
whom  was  one  Carolina,  an  intelligent  and  pretty 
child,  and  Bianca  Capella. 

There  was  nothing  else  to  show  us  except  a  very 
noble  and  most  spacious  saloon,  lighted  by  two  largo 
windows  at  each  end,  coming  down  level  with  the 
floor,  and  by  a  row  of  windows  on  one  side  just 
beneath  the  cornice.  A  gilded  framework  divides  the 
ceiling  into  squares,  circles,  and  octagons,  the  com 
partments  of  which  are  filled  with  pictures  in  oil ;  and 
the  walls  are  covered  with  immense  frescos,  represent 
ing  various  battles  and  triumphs  of  the  Florentines. 
Statues  by  Michael  Angfclo,  John  of  Bologna,  and  Ban- 
dinello,  as  well  historic  as  ideal,  stand  round  the  hall, 

VOL.  II.  4 


74  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

and  it  is  really  a  fit  theatre  for  the  historic  scenes  of 
a  country  to  be  acted  in.  It  was  built,  moreover, 
with  the  idea  of  its  being  the  council-hall  of  a  free 
people ;  but  our  own  little  Faneuil,  which  was  meant, 
in  all  simplicity,  to  be  merely  a  spot  where  the  towns 
people  should  meet  to  choose  their  selectmen,  has 
served  the  world  better  in  that  respect.  I  wish  I  had 
more  room  to  speak  of  this  vast,  dusky,  historic  hall. 
[This  volume  of  journal  closes  here.] 

July  4:th,  1858.  —  Yesterday  forenoon  we  went  to 
see  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella.  We  found 
the  piazza,  on  one  side  of  which  the  church  stands, 
encumbered  with  the  amphitheatrical  ranges  of 
wooden  seats  that  had  been  erected  to  accommodate 
the  spectators  of  the  chariot-races,  at  the  recent  Feast 
of  St.  John.  The  front  of  the  church  is  composed  of 
black  and  white  marble,  which,  in  the  course  of  the 
five  centuries  that  it  has  been  built,  has  turned  brown 
and  yellow.  On  the  right  hand,  as  you  approach,  is 
a  long  colonnade  of  arches,  extending  on  a  line  with 
the  fagade,  and  having  a  tomb  beneath  every  arch. 
This  colonnade  forms  one  of  the  enclosing  walls  of  a 
cloister.  We  found  none  of  the  front  entrances  open, 
but  on  our  left,  in  a  wall  at  right  angles  with  the 
church,  there  was  an  open  gateway,  approaching 
which,  we  saw,  .within  the  four-sided  colonnade,  an 
enclosed  green  space  of  a  cloister.  This  is  what  is 
called  the  Chiostro  Verde,  so  named  from  the  pre 
vailing  color  of  the  frescos  with  which  the  walls 
beneath  the  arches  are  adorned. 

This  cloister  is  the  reality  of  what  I  used  to  imagine 


1858,'J  ITALY.  75 

when  I  saw  the  half-ruinous  colonnades  connected 
with  English  cathedrals,  or  endeavored  to  trace  out 
the  lines  along  the  broken  wall  of  some  old  abbey. 
Not  that  this  extant  cloister,  still  perfect  and  in  daily 
use  for  its  original  purposes,  is  nearly  so  beautiful  as 
the  crumbling  ruin  which  has  ceased  to  be  trodden 
by  monkish  feet  for  more  than  three  centuries.  The 
cloister  of  Santa  Maria  has  not  the  seclusion  that  is 
desirable,  being  open,  by  its  gateway,  to  the  public 
square;  and  several  of  the  neighbors,  women  as  well 
as  men,  were  loitering  within  its  precincts.  The 
convent,  however,  has  another  and  *  larger  cloister, 
which  I  suppose  is  kept  free  from  interlopers.  The 
Chiostro  Yerde  is  a  walk  round  the  four  sides  of  a 
square,  beneath  an  arched  and  groined  roof.  One 
side  of  the  walk  looks  upon  an  enclosed  green  space 
with  a  fountain  or  a  tomb  (I  forget  which)  in  the 
centre ;  the  other  side  is  ornamented  all  along  with 
a  succession  of  ancient  frescos,  representing  subjects 
of  Scripture  history.  In  the  days  when  the  designs 
were  more  distinct  than  now,  it  must  have  been  a 
very  effective  way  for  a  monk  to  read  Bible  history, 
to  see  its  personages  and  events  thus  passing  visibly 
beside  him  in  his  morning  and  evening  walks.  Be 
neath  the  frescos  on  one  side  of  the  cloistered  walk, 
and  along  the  low  stone  parapet  that  separates  it 
from  the  grass-plat  on  the  other,  are  inscriptions  to 
the  memory  of  the  dead  who  are  buried  underneath 
the  pavement.  The  most  of  these  were  modern,  and 
recorded  the  names  of  *persons  of  no  particular  note. 
Other  monumental  slabs  were  inlaid  with  the  pave- 


76  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ment  itself.  Two  or  three  Dominican  monks,  belong 
ing  to  the  convent,  passed  in  and  out  while  we  were 
there  in  their  white  habits. 

After  going  round  three  sides,  we  came  to  the 
fourth,  formed  by  the  wall  of  the  church,  and  heard 
the  voice  of  a  priest  behind  a  curtain  that  fell  down 
before  a  door.  Lifting  it  aside,  we  went  in,  and  found 
ourselves  in  the  ancient  chapter-house,  a  large  in 
terior  formed  by  two  great  pointed  arches  crossing 
one  another  in  a  groined  roof.  The  broad  spaces  of 
the  walls  were  entirely  covered  with  frescos  that  are 
rich  even  now,  and  must  have  glowed  with  an  inex 
pressible  splendor,  when  fresh  from  the  artists'  hands, 
five  hundred  years  ago.  There  is  a  long  period, 
during  which  frescos  illuminate  a  church  or  a  hall  in 
a  way  that  no  other  adornment  can ;  when  this  epoch 
of  brightness  is  past,  they  become  the  dreariest  ghosts 

of  perished  magnificence This  chapter-house  is 

the  only  part  of  the  church  that  is  now  used  for  the 
purposes  of  public  worship.  There  are  several  con 
fessionals,  and  two  chapels  or  shrines,  each  with  its 
lighted  tapers.  A  priest  performed  mass  while  wo 
were  there,  and  several  persons,  as  usual,  stepped  in 
to  do  a  little  devotion,  either  praying  on  their  own 
account,  or  uniting  with  the  ceremony  that  was  going 
forward.  One  man  was  followed  by  two  little  dogs, 
and  in  the  midst  of  his  prayers,  as  one  of  the  dogs 
was  inclined  to  stray  about  the  church,  he  kept 
snapping  his  fingers  to  call  him  back.  The  cool, 
dusky  refreshment  of  these  holy  places,  affording  such 
a  refuge  from  the  hot  noon  of  the  streets  and  piazzas, 


1858.]  ITALY.  77 

probably  suggests  devotional  ideas  to  the  people,  and 
it  may  be,  when  they  are  praying,  they  feel  a  breath 
of  Paradise  fanning  them.  If  we  could  only  see  any 
good  effects  in  their  daily  life,  we  might  deem  it  an 
excellent  thing  to  be  able  to  find  inoense  and  a  prayer 
always  ascending,  to  which  every  individual  may  join 
his  own.  I-  really  wonder  that  the  Catholics  are  not 
better  men  and  women. 

When  we  had  looked  at  the  old  frescos,  ....  we 
emerged  into  the  cloister  again,  and  thence  ventured 
into  a  passage  which  would  have  led  us  to  the  Chiostro 
Grande,  where  strangers,  and  especially  ladies,  have 
no  right  to  go.  It  was  a  secluded  corridor,  very 
neatly  kept,  bordered  with  sepulchral  monuments, 
and  at  the  end  appeared  a  vista  of  cypress-trees, 
which  indeed  were  but  an  illusory  perspective,  being 
painted  in  fresco.  While  we  loitered  along  ....  the 
sacristan  appeared  and  offered  to  show  us  the  church, 
and  led  us  into  the  transept  on  the  right  of  the  high 
altar,  and  ushered  us  into  the  sacristy,  where  we 
found  two  artists  copying  some  of  Fra  Angelico's 
pictures.  These  were  painted  on  the  three  wooden 
leaves  of  a  tryptich,  and,  as  usual,  were  glorified  with 
a  great  deal  of  gilding,  so  that  they  seemed  to  float 
in  the  brightness  of  a  heavenly  element.  Solomon 
speaks  of  "  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver."  The 
pictures  of  Fra  Angelico,  and  other  artists  of  that 
age,  are  really  pictures  of  gold  ;  and  it  is  wonderful 
to  see  how  rich  the  effect,  and  how  much  delicate 
beauty  is  attained  (by  Fra  Angelico  at  least)  along 
with  it.  His  miniature-heads  appear  to  me  much 


78  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

more  successful  than  his  larger  ones.  In  a  monkish 
point  of  view,  however,  the  chief  value  of  the  tryptich 
of  which  I  am  speaking  does  not  lie  in  the  pictures, 
for  they  merely  serve  as  the  framework  of  some 
relics,  which  are-  set  all  round  the  edges  of  the 
•  three  leaves.  They  consist  of  little  bits  and  fragments 
of  bones,  and  of  packages  carefully  tied  up  in  silk, 
the  contents  of  which  are  signified  in  Gothic  letters 
appended  to  each  parcel.  The  sacred  vessels  of  the 
church  are  likewise  kept  in  the  sacristy 

Re-entering  the  transept,  our  guide  showed  -us  the 
chapel  of  the  Strozzi  family,  which  is  accessible  by  a 
flight  of  steps  from  the  floor  of  the  church.  The 
walls  of  this  chapel  are  covered  with  frescos  by  Or- 
gagna,  representing  around  the  altar  the  Last  Judg 
ment,  and  on  one  of  the  walls  heaven  and  the  assem 
bly  of  the  blessed,  and  on  the  other,  of  course,  hell. 
I  cannot  speak  as  to  the  truth  of  the  representation  ; 
but,  at  all  events,  it  was  purgatory  to  look  at 
it 

We  next  passed  into  the  choir,  which  occupies  the 
extreme  end  of  the  church  behind  the  great  square 
mass  of  the  high  altar,  and  is  surrounded  with  a 
double  row  of  ancient  oaken  seats  of  venerable  shape 
and  carving.  The  choir  is  illuminated  by  a  threefold 
Gothic  window,  full  of  richly  painted  glass,  worth  all 
the  frescos  that  ever  stained  a  wall  or  ceiling ;  but 
these  walls,  nevertheless,  are  adorned  with  frescos  by 
Ghirlandaio,  and  it  is  easy  to  see  must  once  have 
made  a  magnificent  appearance.  I  really  was  sen 
sible  of  a  sad  and  ghostly  beauty  in  many  of  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  79 

figures ;  but  all  the  bloom,  the  magic  of  the  painter's 
touch,  his  topmost  art,  have  long  ago  been  rubbed  off, 
the  white  plaster  showing  through  the  colors  in  spots, 
and  even  in  large  spaces.  Any  other  sort  of  ruin 
acquires  a  beauty  proper  to  its  decay,  and  often  supe 
rior  to  that  of  its  pristine  state ;  but  the  ruin  of  a 
picture,  especially  of  a  fresco,  is  wholly  unredeemed  ; 
and,  moreover,  it  dies  so  slowly  that  many  genera 
tions  are  likely  to  be  saddened  by  it. 

We  next  saw  the  famous  picture  of  the  Virgin  by 
Cimabue,  which  was  deemed  a  miracle  in  its  day, 
....  and  still  brightens  the  sombre  walls  with  the 
lustre  of  its  gold  ground.  As  to  its  artistic  merits,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  babe  Jesus  has  a  certain  air  of 
state  and  dignity ;  but  I  could  see  no  charm  whatever 
in  the  broad-faced  Virgin,  and  it  would  relieve  my 
mind  and  rejoice  my  spirit  if  the  picture  were  borne 
out  of  the  church  in  another  triumphal  procession 
(like  the  one  which  brought  it  there),  and  reverently 
burnt.  This  should  be  the  final  honor  paid  to  all 
human  works  that  have  served  a  good  office  in  their 
day,  for  when  their  day  is  over,  if  still  galvanized  into 

false  life,  they  do  harm  instead  of  good The 

interior  of  Santa  Maria  Novella  is  spacious  and  in  the 
Gothic  style,  though  differing  from  English  churches 
of  that  order  of  architecture.  It  is  not  now  kept  open 
to  the  public,  nor  were  any  of  the  shrines  and  chapels, 
nor  even  the  high  altar  itself,  adorned  and  lighted  for 
worship.  The  pictures  that  decorated  the  shrines 
along  the  side-aisles  hawe  been  removed,  leaving  bare, 
blank  spaces  of  brickwork,  very  dreary  and  desolate 


80  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

to  behold.  This  is  almost  worse  than  a  black  oil- 
painting  or  a  faded  fresco.  The  church  was  much 
injured  by  the  French,  and  afterwards  by  the  Austri- 
ans,  both  powers  having  quartered  their  troops  within 
the  holy  precincts.  Its  old  walls,  however,  are  yet 
stalwart  enough  to  outlast  another  set  of  frescos,  and 
to  see  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  a  new  school  of 
painting  as  long-lived  as  Cimabue's.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  have  the  church  go  to  decay,  because  it  was 
here  that  Boccaccio's  dames  and  cavaliers  encountered 
one  another,  and  formed  their  plan  of  retreating  into 
the  country  during  the  plague 

At  the  door  we  bought  a  string  of  beads,  with  a 
small  crucifix  appended,  in  memory  of  the  place. 
The  beads  seem  to  be  of  a  grayish,  pear-shaped  seed, 
and  the  seller  assured  us  that  they  were  the  tears  of 
St.  Job.  They  were  cheap,  probably  because  Job  shed 
so  many  tears  in  his  lifetime. 

It  being  still  early  in  the  day,  we  went  to  the 
Uffizzi  gallery,  and  after  loitering  a  good  while  among 
the  pictures,  were  so  fortunate  as  to  find  the  room  of 
the  bronzes  open.  The  first  object  that  attracted  us 
was  John  of  Bologna's  Mercury,  poising  himself  on 
tiptoe,  and  looking  not  merely  buoyant  enough  to 
float,  but  as  if  he  possessed  more  than  the  eagle's 
power  of  lofty  flight.  It  seems  a  wonder  that  he  did 
not  absolutely  fling  himself  into  the  air  when  the 
artist  gave  him  the  last  touch.  No  bolder  work  was 
ever  achieved ;  nothing  so  full  of  life  has  been  done 
since.  I  was  much  interested,  too,  in  the  original 
little  wax  model,  two  feet  high,  of  Bcnvcnuto  Cellini's 


1858.]  ITALY.  81 

Perseus.  The  wax  seems  to  be  laid  over  a  wooden 
framework,  and  is  but  roughly  finished  off.  .... 

In  an  adjoining  room  are  innumerable  specimens  of 
Roman  and  Etruscan  bronzes,  great  and  small.  A 
bronze  Chimera  did  not  strike  me  as  very  ingeniously 
conceived,  the  goat's  head  being  merely  an  adjunct, 
growing  oat  of  the  back  of  the  monster,  without  pos 
sessing  any  original  and  substantive  share  in  its  nature. 
The  snake's  head  is  at  the  end  of  the  tail.  The  object 
most  really  interesting  was  a  Roman  eagle,  the  stand 
ard  of  the  Twenty-fourth  Legion,  about  the  size  of  a 
blackbird. 

July  8th. —  On  the  Gth  we  went  to  the  Church  of 
the  Annunziata,  which  stands  in  the  piazza  of  the 
same  name.  On  the  corner  of  the  Via  dei  Servi  is  the 
palace  which  I  suppose  to  be  the  one  that  Browning 
makes  the  scene  of  his  poem,  "  The  Statue  and  the 
Bust,"  and  the  statue  of  Duke  Ferdinand  sits  stately 
on  horseback,  with  his  face  turned  towards  the  win 
dow,  where  the  lady  ought  to  appear.  Neither  she 
nor  the  bust,  however,  was  visible,  at  least  not  to  my 
eyes.  The  church  occupies  one  side  of  the  piazza, 
and  in  front  of  it,  as  likewise  on  the  two  adjoining 
sides  of  the  square,  there  are  pillared  arcades,  con 
structed  by  Brunelleschi  or  his  scholars.  After  pass 
ing  through  these  arches,  and  still  before  entering  the 
church  itself,  you  come  to  an  ancient  cloister,  which 
is  now  quite  enclosed  in  glass  as  a  means  of  preserv 
ing  some  frescos  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  and  others, 
which  are  considered 4val liable. 

Passing  the  threshold  of  the  church,  we  were  quite 
4*  r 


82  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858* 

dazzled  by  the  splendor  that  shone  upon  us  from  the 
ceiling  of  the  nave,  the  great  parallelograms  of  which, 
viewed  from  one  end,  look  as  if  richly  embossed  all 
over  with  gold.  The  whole  interior,  indeed,  has  an 
effect  of  brightness  and  magnificence,  the  walls  being 
covered  mostly  with  light-colored  marble,  into  which 
are  inlaid  compartments  of  rarer  and  richer  marbles. 
The  pillars  and  pilasters,  too,  are  of  variegated  mar 
bles,  with  Corinthian  capitals,  that  shine  just  as  brightly 
as  if  they  w^ere  of  solid  gold,  so  faithfully  have  they 
been  gilded  and  burnished.  The  pavement  is  formed  of 
squares  of  black  and  white  marble.  There  are  no  side- 
aisles,  but  ranges  of  chapels,  with  communication  from 
one  to  another,  stand  round  the  whole  extent  of  the 
nave  and  choir ;  all  of  marble,  all  decorated  with  pic 
tures,  statues,  busts,  and  mural,  monuments;  all 
worth,  separately,  a  day's  inspection.  The  high  altar 
is  of  great  beauty  and  richness,  ....  and  also  the 
tomb  of  John  of  Bologna  in  a  chapel  at  the  remotest 
extremity  of  the  church.  In  this  chapel  there  are 
some  bas-reliefs  by  him,  and  also  a  large  crucifix,  with 
a  marble  Christ  upon  it.  I  think  there  has  been  no 

better  sculptor  since  the  days  of  Phidias 

The  church  was  founded  by  seven  gentlemen  of 
Florence,  who  formed  themselves  into  a  religious  order 
called  "  Servants  of  Mary."  Many  miraculous  cures 
were  wrought  here  ;  and  the  church,  in  consequence, 
was  so  thickly  hung  with  votive  offerings  of  legs, 
arms,  and  other  things  in  wax,  that  they  used  to 
tumble  upon  people's  heads,  so  that  finally  they  were 
all  cleared  out  as  rubbish.  The  church  is  still,  I 


£858.]  ITALY.  83 

should  imagine,  looked  upon  as  a  place  of  peculiar  sanc 
tity  ;  for  while  we  were  there  it  had  an  unusual  number 
of  kneeling  worshippers,  and  persons  were  passing  from 
shrine  to  shrine  all  round  the  nave  and  choir,  praying 
awhile  at  each,  and  thus  performing  a  pilgrimage  at 
little  cost  of  time  and  labor.  One  old  gentleman,  I 
observed,  carried  a  cushion  or  pad,  just  big  enough  for 
one  knee,  on  which  he  carefully  adjusted  his  genu 
flexions  before  each  altar.  An  old  woman  in  the  choir 
prayed  alternately  to  us  and  to  the  saints,  with  most 
success,  I  hope,  in  her  petitions  to  the  latter,  though 
certainly  her  prayers  to  ourselves  seemed  the  more 
fervent  of  the  two. 

When  we  had  gone  entirely  round  the  church,  we 
came  at  last  to  the  chapel  of  the  Annunziata,  which 
stands  on  the  floor  of  the  nave,  on  the  left  hand  as 
we  enter.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  piece  of  architecture, 
—  a  sort  of  canopy  of  marble,  supported  upon  pillars  ; 
and  its  magnificence  within,  in  marble  and  silver,  and 
all  manner  of  holy  decoration,  is  quite  indescribable. 
Tt  was  built  four  hundred  years  ago,  by  Pietro  di 
Medici,  and  has  probably  been  growing  richer  ever 
since.  The  altar  is  entirely  of  silver,  richly  embossed. 
As  many  people  were  kneeling  on  the  steps  before  it 
as  could  find  room,  and  most  of  them,  when  they  fin 
ished  their  prayers,  ascended  the  steps,  kissed  over 
and  over  again  the  margin  of  the  silver  altar,  laid 
their  foreheads  upon  it,  and  then  deposited  an  offer 
ing  in  a  box  placed  upon  the  altar's  top.  From  the 
dulness  of  the  chink  m  the  only  case  when  I  heard  it, 
I  judged  it  to  be  a  small  copper  coin. 


84  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

In  the  inner  part  of  this  chapel  is  preserved  a  mirac 
ulous  picture  of  the  "  Santissima  Annunziata,"  painted 
by  angels,  and  held  in  such  holy  repute  that  forty 
thousand  dollars  have  lately  been  expended  in  provid 
ing  a  new  crown  for  the  sacred  personage  represented. 
The  picture  is  now  veiled  behind  a  curtain ;  and  as  it 
is  a  fresco,  and  is  not  considered  to  do  much  credit  to 
the  angelic  artists,  I  was  well  contented  not  to  see  it. 

We  found  a  side  door  of  the  church  admitting  us 
into  the  great  cloister,  which  has  a  walk  of  intersecting 
arches  round  its  four  sides,  paved  with  flat  tomb 
stones,  and  broad  enough  for  six  people  to  walk 
abreast.  On  the  walls,  in  the  semicircles  of  each 
successive  arch,  are  frescos  representing  incidents  in 
the  lives  of  the  seven  founders  of  the  church,  and  all 
the  lower  part  of  the  wall  is  incrusted  with  marble 
inscriptions  to  the  memory  of  the  dead,  and  mostly  of 
persons  who  have  died  not  very  long  ago.  The  space 
enclosed  by  the  cloistered  walk,  usually  made  cheerful 
by  green  grass,  has  a  pavement  of  tombstones  laid  in 
regular  ranges*  In  the  centre  is  a  stone  octagonal 
structure,  which  at  first  I  supposed  to  be  the  tomb  of 
some  deceased  mediaeval  personage ;  but,  on  approach 
ing,  I  found  it  a  well,  with  its  bucket  hanging  within 
the  curb,  and  looking  as  if  it  were  in  constant  use. 
The  surface  of  the  water  lay  deep  beneath  the  deepest 
dust  of  the  dead  people,  and  thence  threw  up  its  picture 
of  the  sky  ;  but  I  think  it  would  not  be  a  moderate 
thirst  that  would  induce  me  to  drink  of  that  well. 

On  leaving  the  church  we  bought  a  little  gilt  cru 
cifix. 


1853.]  ITALY.  85 

On  Sunday  evening  I  paid  a  short  visit  to  Mr. 
Powers,  and,  as  usual,  was  entertained  and  instructed 
with  his  conversation.  It  did  not,  indeed,  turn  upon 
artist ical  subjects ;  but  the  artistic  is  only  one  side  of 
his  character,  and,  I  think,  not  the  principal  side. 
He  might  have  achieved  valuable  success  as  an  en 
gineer  and  mechanician.  He  gave  a  dissertation  on  fly 
ing-machines,  evidently  from  his  own  experience,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  impossible  to  fly  by 
means  of  steam  or  any  other  motive  power  now  known 
to  man.  No  force  hitherto  attained  would  suffice  to 
lift  the  engine  which  generated  it.  He  appeared  to 
anticipate  that  flying  will  be  a  future  mode  of  locomo 
tion,  but  not  till  the  moral  condition  of  mankind  is  so 
improved  as  to  obviate  the  bad  uses  to  which  the 
power  might  be  applied.  Another  topic  discussed  was 
a  cure  for  complaints  of  the  chest  by  the  inhalation  of 
nitric  acid  ;  and  he  produced  his  own  apparatus  for 
that  purpose,  being  merely  a  tube  inserted  into  a 
bottle  containing  a  small  quantity  of  the  acid,  just 
enough  to  produce  the  gas  for  inhalation.  He  told 
me,  too,  a  remedy  for  burns  accidentally  discovered  by 
himself;  viz.,  to  wear  wash-leather,  or  something  equiv 
alent,  over  the  burn,  and  keep  it  constantly  wet.  It 
prevents  all  pain,  and  cures  by  the  exclusion  of  the 
air.  He  evidently  has  a  great  tendency  to  empirical 
remedies,  and  would  have  made  a  natural  doctor  of 
mighty  potency,  possessing  the  shrewd  sense,  inventive 
faculty,  and  self-reliance  that  such  persons  require.  It 
is  very  singular  that  there  should  be  an  ideal  vein  in 
a  man  of  this  character. 


86  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

This  morning  he  called  to  see  me,  with  intelligence  of 
the  failure  of  the  new  attempt  to  lay  the  electric  cable 
between  England  and  America;  and  here,  too,  it 
appears  the  misfortune  might  have  been  avoided  if  a 
plan  of  his  own  for  laying  the  cable  had  been  adopted. 
He  explained  his  process,  and  made  it  seem  as  practi 
cable  as  to  put  up  a  bell-wire.  I  do  not  remember 
how  or  why  (but  appositely)  he  repeated  some  verses, 
from  a  pretty  little  ballad  about  fairies,  that  had 
struck  his  fancy,  and  he  wound  up  his  talk  with  some 
acute  observations  on  the  characters  of  General  Jack* 
son  and  other  public  men.  He  told  an  anecdote, 
illustrating  the  old  general's  small  acquaintance  with 
astronomical  science,  and  his  force  of  will  in  compel 
ling  a  whole  dinner-party  of  better  instructed  people 
than  himself  to  succumb  to  him  in  an  argument  about 
eclipses  and  the  planetary  system  generally.  Powers 
witnessed  the  scene  himself.  He  thinks  that  General 
Jackson  was  a  man  of  the  keenest  and  surest  intuitions, 
in  respect  to  men  and  measures,  but  with  no  power  of 
reasoning  out  his  own  conclusions,  or  of  imparting 
them  intellectually  to  other  persons.  Men  who  have 
known  Jackson  intimately,  and  in  great  affairs,  would 
not  agree  as  to  this  intellectual  and  argumentative 
deficiency,  though  they  would  fully  allow  the  intuitive 
faculty.  I  have  heard  General  Pierce  tell  a  striking 
instance  of  Jackson's  power  of  presenting  his  own  view 
of  a  subject  with  irresistible  force  to  the  mind  of  the 
auditor.  President  Buchanan  has  likewise  expressed 
to  me  as  high  admiration  of  Jackson  as*  I  ever  heard 
one  man  award  to  another.  Surely  he  was  a  great 


1858.]  ITALY.      V  87 

man,  and  his  native  strength,  as  well  of  intellect  as 
character,  compelled  every  man  to  be  his  tool  that 
came  within  his  reach ;  and  the  more  cunning  the 
individual  might  be,  it  served  only  to  make  him  the 
sharper  tool. 

Speaking  of  Jackson,  and  remembering  Raphael's 
picture  of  Pope  Julius  II.,  the  best  portrait  in  the 
whole  world,  and  excellent  in  all  its  repetitions,  I 
wish  it  had  been  possible  for  Raphael  to  paint  General 
Jackson  ! 

Referring  again  to  General  Jackson's  intuitions, 
and  to  Powers's  idea  that  he  was  unable  to  render  a 
reason  to  himself  or  others  for  what  he  chose  to  do,  I 
should  have  thought  that  this  very  probably  might 
have  been  the  case,  were  there  not  such  strong  evi 
dence  to  the  contrary.  The  highest,  or  perhaps  any 
high  administrative  ability  is  intuitive,  and  precedes 
argument,  and.  rises  above  it.  It  is  a  revelation  of 
the  very  thing  to  be  done,  and  its  propriety  and 
necessity  are  felt  so  strongly  that  very  likely  it  can 
not  be  talked  about ;  if  the  doer  can  likewise  talk,  it 
is  an  additional  and  gratuitous  faculty,  as  little  to  be 
expected  as  that  a  poet  should  be  able  to  write  an 
explanatory  criticism  on  his  own  poem.  The  English 
overlook  this  in  their  scheme  of  government,  which 
requires  that  the  members  of  the  national  executive 
should  be  orators,  and  the  readiest  and  most  fluent 
orators  that  can  be  found.  The  very  fact  (on  which 
they  are  selected)  that  they  are  men  of  words  makes 
it  improbable  that  th&y  are  likewise  men  of  deeds. 
And  it  is  only  tradition  and  old  custom,  founded  on 


88  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

an  obsolete  state  of  things,  that  assigns  any  value  to 
parliamentary  oratory.  The  world  has  done  with  it, 
except  as  an  intellectual  pastime.  The  speeches  have 
no  effect  till  they  are  converted  into  newspaper  para 
graphs  ;  and  they  had  better  be  composed  as  such, 
in  the  first  place,  and  oratory  reserved  for  churches, 
courts  of  law,  and  public  dinner-tables. 

July  Wtk.  —  My  wife  and  I  went  yesterday  fore 
noon  to  see  the  Church  of  San  Marco,  with  which  is 
connected  a  convent  of  Dominicans The  inte 
rior  is  not  less  than  three  or  four  hundred  years  old, 
and  is  in  the  classic  style,  with  a  flat  ceiling,  gilded, 
and  a  lofty  arch,  supported  by  pillars,  between  the 
nave  and  choir.  There  are  no  side-aisles,  but  ranges 
of  shrines  on  both  sides  of  the  nave,  each  beneath  its 
own  pair  of  pillars  and  pediments.  The  pavement  is 
of  brick,  with  here  and  there  a  marble  tombstone 
inlaid.  It  is  not  a  magnificent  church ;  but  looks 
dingy  with  time  and  apparent  neglect,  though  ren 
dered  sufficiently  interesting  by  statues  of  mediaeval 
date  by  John  of  Bologna  and  other  old  sculptors,  and 
by  monumental  busts  and  bas-reliefs  :  also,  there  is  a 
wooden  crucifix  by  Giotto,  with  ancient  gilding  on 
it ;  and  a  painting  of  Christ,  which  was  considered  a 
wonderful  work  in  its  day.  Each  shrine,  or  most  of 
them,  at  any  rate,  had  its  dark  old  picture,  and  there 
is  a  very  old  and  hideous  mosaic  of  the  Virgin  and 
two  saints,  which  I  looked  at  very  slightly,  with  the 
purpose  of  immediately  forgetting  it.  Savonarola,  the 
reforming  monk,  was  a  brother  of  this  convent,  and 
was  torn  from  its  shelter,  to  be  subsequently  hanged 


1858.]  ITALY.  89 

and  burnt  in  the  Grand  Ducal  Piazza.  A  large  chapel 
in  the  left  transept  is  of  the  Salviati  family,  dedicated 
to  St.  Anthony,  and  decorated  with  several  statues 
of  saints,  and  with  some  old  frescos.  When  we  had 
more  than  sufficiently  examined  these,  the  custode 
proposed  to  show  us  some  frescos  of  Fra  Angelico,  and 
conducted  us  into  a  large  cloister,  under  the  arches 
of  which,  and  beneath  a  covering  of  glass,  he  pointed 
to  a  picture  of  St.  Dominic  kneeling  at  the  Cross. 
There  are  two  or  three  others  by  the  angelic  friar  in 
different  parts  of  the  cloister,  and  a  regular  series, 
filling  up  all  the  arches,  by  various  artists.  Its  four- 
sided,  cloistered  walk  surrounds  a  square,  open  to  the 
sky  as  usual,  and  paved  with  gray  stones  that  have  no 
inscriptions,  but  probably  are  laid  over  graves.  Its 
walls,  however,  are  incrusted,  and  the  walk  itself  is 
paved  with  monumental  inscriptions  on  marble,  none 
of  which,  so  far  as  I  observed,  were  of  ancient  date. 
Either  the  fashion  of  thus  commemorating  the  dead 
is  not  ancient  in  Florence,  or  the  old  tombstones  have 
been  removed  to  make  room  for  new  ones.  I  do  not 
know  where  the  monks  themselves  have  their  burial- 
place  ;  perhaps  in  an  inner  cloister,  which  we  did  not 
see.  All  the  inscriptions  here,  I  believe,  were  in 
memory  of  persons  not  connected  with  the  convent. 
A  door  in  the  wall  of  the  cloister  admitted  us  into 
the  chapter-house,  its  interior  moderately  spacious, 
with  a  roof  formed  by  intersecting  arches.  Three 
sides  of  the  walls  were  covered  with  blessed  white 
wash  ;  but  on  the  fourth  side,  opposite  to  the  en 
trance,  was  a  great  fresco  of  the  Crucifixion,  by  Fra 


90  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Angelico,  surrounded  with  a  border  or  pictured  frame 
work,  in  which  are  represented  the  heads  of  saints, 
prophets,  and  sibyls,  as  large  as  life.  The  cross  of 
the  Saviour  and  those  of  the  thieves  were  painted 
against  a  dark  red  sky ;  the  figures  upon  them  were 
lean  and  attenuated,  evidently  the  vague  conceptions 
of  a  man  who  had  never  seen  a  naked  figure.  Be 
neath,  was  a  multitude  of  people,  most  of  whom  were 
saints  who  had  lived  and  been  martyred  long  after 
the  Crucifixion ;  and  some  of  these  had  wounds 
from  which  gilded  rays  shone  forth,  as  if  the  inner 
glory  and  blessedness  of  the  holy  men  blazed  through 
them.  It  is  a  very  ugly  picture,  and  its  ugliness  is 
not  that  of  strength  and  vigor,  but  of  weakness  and 
incompetency.  Fra  Angelico  should  have  confined 
himself  to  miniature  heads,  in  which  his  delicacy  of 
touch  and  minute  labor  often  produce  an  excellent 
effect.  The  custode  informed  us  that  there  were 
more  frescos  of  this  pious  artist  in  the  interior  of  the 
convent,  into  which  I  might  be  allowed  admittance, 
but  not  my  wife.  I  declined  seeing  them,  and  heartily 
thanked  heaven  for  my  escape. 

Returning  through  the  church,  we  stopped  to  look 
at  a  shrine  on  the  right  of  the  entrance,  where  several 
wax  candles  were  lighted,  and  the  steps  of  which  were 
crowded  with  worshippers.  It  was  evidently  a  spot 
of  special  sanctity,  and,  approaching  the  steps,  we 
saw,  behind  a  gilded  framework  of  stars  and  pro 
tected  by  glass,  a  wooden  image  of  the  Saviour,  naked, 
covered  with  spots  of  blood,  crowned  with  thorns, 
and  expressing  all  the  human  wretchedness  that  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  91 

carver's  skill  could  represent.  The  whole  shrine, 
within  the  glass,  was  hung  with  offerings,  as  well  of 
silver  and  gold  as  of  tinsel  and  trumpery,  and  the 
body  of  Christ  glistened  with  gold  chains  and  orna 
ments,  and  with  watches  of  silver  and  gold,  some  of 
which  appeared  to  be  of  very  old  manufacture,  and 
others  might  be  new.  Amid  all  this  glitter  the  face 
of  pain  and  grief  looked  forth,  not  a  whit  comforted. 
While  we  stood  there,  a  woman,  who  had  been  pray 
ing,  arose  from  her  knees  and  laid  an  offering  of  a 
single  flower  upon  the  shrine. 

The  corresponding  arch,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
entrance,  contained  a  wax-work  within  a  large  glass 
case,  representing  the  Nativity.  I  do  not  remember 
how  the  Blessed  Infant  looked,  but  the  Virgin  was 
gorgeously  dressed  in  silks,  satins,  and  gauzes,  with 
spangles  and  ornaments  of  all  kinds,  and  I  believe 
brooches  of  real  diamonds  on  her  bosom.  Her  attire, 
judging  from  its  freshness  and  newness  of  glitter, 
might  have  been  put  on  that  very  morning. 

July  1 3th.  —  We  went  for  the  second  time,  this 
morning,  to  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  and  I  looked 
pretty  thoroughly  at  the  Pre-Raphaelite  pictures,  few 
of  which  are  really  worth  looking  at  nowadays.  Cima- 
bue  and  Giotto  might  certainly  be  dismissed,  hence 
forth  and  forever,  without  any  detriment  to  the  cause 
of  good  art.  There  is  what  seems  to  me  a  better 
picture  than  either  of  these  has  produced,  by  Bona- 
mico  Buftalmaeco,  an  artist  of  about  their  date  or 
not  long  after.  The  first  real  picture  in  the  series  is 
the  "  Adoration  of  the  Magi,"  by  Gentile  da  Fabriano, 


92  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

a  really  splendid  work  in  all  senses,  with  noble  and 
beautiful  figures  in  it,  and  a  crowd  of  personages, 
managed  with  great  skill.  Three  pictures  by  Perugiuo 
are  the  only  other  ones  I  cared  to  look  at.  In  one  of 
these,  the  face  of  the  Virgin  who  holds  the  dead  Christ 
on  her  knees  has  a  deeper  expression  of  woe  than  can 
ever  have  been  painted  since.  After  Perugino  the 
pictures  cease  to  be  interesting ;  the  art  came  forward 
with  rapid  strides,  but  the  painters  and  their  pro 
ductions  do  not  take  nearly  so  much  hold  of  the 
spectator  as  before.  They  all  paint  better  than  Giotto 
and  Cimabue,  —  in  some  respects  better  than  Peru 
gino  ;  but  they  paint  in  vain,  probably  because  they 
were  not  nearly  so  much  in  earnest,  and  meant  far 
less,  though  possessing  the  dexterity  to  express  far 
more.  Andrea  del  Sarto  appears  to  have  been  a 
good  painter,  yet  I  always  turn  away  readily  from  his 
pictures.  I  looked  again,  and  for  a  good  while,  at 
Carlo  Dolce's  portrait  of  the  Eternal  Father,  for  it 
is  a  miracle  and  masterpiece  of  absurdity,  and  almost 
equally  a  miracle  of  pictorial  art.  It  is  the  All- 
powerless,  a  fair-haired,  soft,  consumptive  deity,  with 
a  mouth  that  has  fallen  open  through  very  weakness. 
He  holds  one  hand  on  his  stomach,  as  if  the  wicked 
ness  and  wretchedness  of  mankind  made  him  qualm 
ish  ;  and  he  is  looking  down  out  of  Heaven  with  an 
expression  of  pitiable  appeal,  or  as  if  seeking  some 
where  for  assistance  in  his  heavy  task  of  ruling  the 
universe.  You  might  fancy  such  a  being  falling  on 
his  knees  before  a  strong-willed  man,  and  beseeching 
him  to  take  the  reins  of  omnipotence  out  of  his  hands. 


1858.]  ITALY.  93 

No  wonder  that  wrong  gets  the  better  of  right,  and 
that  good  and  ill  are  confounded,  if  the  Supreme 
Head  were  as  here  depicted  ;  for  I  never  saw,  and 
nobody  else  ever  saw,  so  perfect  a  representation  of 
a  person  burdened  with  a  task  infinitely  above  his 
strength.  If  Carlo  Dolce  had  been  wicked  enough  to 
know  what  he  was  doing,  the  picture  would  have  been 
most  blasphemous,  —  a  satire,  in  the  very  person  of 
the  Almighty,  against  all  incompetent  rulers,  and 
against  the  rickety  machine  and  crazy  action  of  the 
universe.  Heaven  forgive  me  for  such  thoughts  as 
this  picture  has  suggested  !  It  must  be  added  that 
the  great  original  defect  in  the  character  as  here 
represented  is  an  easy  good-nature.  I  wonder  what 
Michael  Angelo  would  have  said  to  this  painting. 

In  the  large,  enclosed  court  connected  with  the 
Academy  there  are  a  number  of  statues,  bas-reliefs, 
and  casts,  and  what  was  especially  interesting,  the 
vague  and  rude  commencement  of  a  statue  of  St. 
Matthew  by  Michael  Angelo.  The  conceptions  of  this 
great  sculptor  were  so  godlike  that  he  seems  to  have 
been  discontented  at  not  likewise  possessing  the  god 
like  attribute  of  creating  and  embodying  them  with 
an  instantaneous  thought,  and  therefore  we  often  find 
sculptures  from  his  hand  left  at  the  critical  point  of 
their  struggle  to  get  out  of  the  marble.  The  statue 
of  St.  Matthew  looks  like  the  antediluvian  fossil  of 
a  human  being  of  an  epoch  when  humanity  was 
mightier  and  more  majestic  than  now,  long  ago  im 
prisoned  in  stone,  and  "half  uncovered  again. 

July  IQth.  —  We  went  yesterday  forenoon  to  see  the 


94  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

Bargello.  I  do  not  know  anything  more  picturesque 
in  Florence  than  the  great  interior  court  of  this  an 
cient  Palace  of  the  Podesta,  with  the  lofty  height  of 
the  edifice  looking  down  into  the  enclosed  space,  dark 
and  stern,  and  the  armorial  bearings  of  a  long  succes 
sion  of  magistrates  carved  in  stone  upon  the  walls,  a 
garland,  as  it  were,  of  these  Gothic  devices  extending 
quite  round  the  court.  The  best  feature  of  the  whole 
is  the  broad  stone  staircase,  with  its  heavy  balustrade, 
ascending  externally  from  the  court  to  the  iron-grated 
door  in  the  second  story.  We  passed  the  sentinels 
under  the  lofty  archway  that  communicates  with  the 
street,  and  went  up  the  stairs  without  being  ques 
tioned  or  impeded.  At  the  iron-grated  door,  however, 
we  were  met  by  two  officials  in  uniform,  who  cour 
teously  informed  us  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  ex 
hibited  in  the  Bargello  except  an  old  chapel  contain 
ing  some  frescos  by  Giotto,  and  that  these  could  only 
be  seen  by  making  a  previous  appointment  with  the 
custode,  he  not  being  constantly  on  hand.  I  was  not 
sorry  to  escape  the  frescos,  though  one  of  them  i§  a 
portrait  of  Dante. 

We  next  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Badia,  which  is 
built  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  with  a  flat  roof 
embossed  and  once  splendid  with  now  tarnished  gold. 
The  pavement  is  of  brick,  and  the  walls  of  dark  stone, 
similar  to  that  of  the  interior  of  the  Cathedral  (pietra 
serena),  and  there  being,  according  to  Florentine  cus 
tom,  but  little  light,  the  effect  was  sombre,  though 
the  cool  gloomy  dusk  was  refreshing  after  the  hot  tur 
moil  and  dazzle  of  the  adjacent  street.  Here  we  found 


1858.]  ITALY.  95 

three  or  four  Gothic  tombs,  with  figures  of  the  de 
ceased  persons  stretched  in  marble  slumber  upon 
them.  There  were  likewise  a  picture  or  two,  which  it 
was  impossible  to  see  ;  indeed,  I  have  hardly  ever  met 
with  a  picture  in  a  church  that  was  not  utterly  wasted 
and  thrown  away  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the  chapel  it 
was  meant  to  adorn.  If  there  is  the  remotest  chance 
of  its  being  seen,  the  sacristan  hangs  a  curtain  before 
it  for  the  sake  of  his  fee  for  withdrawing  it.  In  the 
chapel  of  the  Bianco  family  we  saw  (if  it  could  be 
called  seeing)  what  is  considered  the  finest  oil-painting 
of  Fra  Filippo  Lippi.  It  was  evidently  hung  with 
reference  to  a  lofty  window  on  the  other  side  of  the 
church,  whence  sufficient  light  might  fall  upon  it  to 
show  a  picture  so  vividly  painted  as  this  is,  and  as 
most  of  Fra  Filippo  Lippi's  are.  The  window  was 
curtained,  however,  and  the  chapel  so  dusky  that  I 
could  make  out  nothing. 

Several  persons  came  in  to  say  their  prayers  during 
the  little  time  that  we  remained  in  the  church,  and 
as  we  came  out  we  passed  a  good  woman  who  sat 
knitting  in  the  coolness  of  the  vestibule,  which  was 
lined  with  mural  tombstones.  Probably  she  spends 
the  day  thus,  keeping  up  the  little  industry  of  her 
fingers,  slipping  into  the  church  to  pray  whenever  a 
devotional  impulse  swells  into  her  heart,  and  asking 
an  alms  as  often  as  she  sees  a  person  of  charitable 
aspect. 

From  the  church  we  went  to  the  Uffizzi  gallery, 
and  reinspected  the  greater  part  of  it  pretty  faithfully. 
We  had  the  good  fortune,  too,  again  to  get  admittance 


96  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

into  the  cabinet  of  bronzes,  where  we  admired  anew 
the  wonderful  airiness  of  John  of  Bologna's  Mercury, 
which,  as  I  now  observed,  rests  on  nothing  substan 
tial,  but  on  the  breath  of  a  zephyr  beneath  him.  We 
also  saw  a  bronze  bust  of  one  of  the  Medici  by  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini,  and  a  thousand  other  things  the  curi 
osity  of  which  is  overlaid  by  their  multitude.  The 
Roman  eagle,  which  I  have  recorded  to  be  about  the 
size  of  a  blackbird,  I  now  saw  to  be  as  large  as  a 
pigeon. 

On  our  way  towards  the  door  of  the  gallery,  at  our 
departure,  we  saw  the  cabinet  of  gems  open,  and  again 
feasted  our  eyes  with  its  concentrated  brilliancies  and 
magnificences.  Among  them  were  two  crystal  cups, 
with  engraved  devices,  and  covers  of  enamelled  gold, 
wrought  by  Benvenuto  Cellini,  and  wonderfully  beau 
tiful.  But  it  is  idle  to  mention  one  or  two  things, 
when  all  are  so  beautiful  and  curious  ;  idle,  too,  be 
cause  language  ^is  not  burnished  gold,  with  here  and 
there  a  brighter  word  flashing  like  a  diamond ;  and 
therefore  no  amount  of  talk  will  give  the  slightest  idea 
of  one  of  these  elaborate  handiworks. 

July  27th.  —  I  seldom  go  out  nowadays,  having 
already  seen  Florence  tolerably  well,  and  the  streets 
being  very  hot,  and  myself  having  been  engaged  in 
sketching  out  a  romance,''1  which  whether  it  will 
ever  come  to  anything  is  a  point  yet  to  be  decided. 
At  any  rate,  it  leaves  me  little  heart  for  journalizing 
and  describing  new  things ;  and  six  months  of  unin 
terrupted  monotony  would  be  more  valuable  to  me 

*  The  Marble  Faun.  —  ED. 


1S5S.]  ITALY.  97 

just  now,  than  the  most  brilliant  succession  of  novel- 
tics.  • 

Yesterday  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  watching 
the  setting  out  of  a  wedding  party  from  our  door ;  the 
bride  being  the  daughter  of  an  English  lady,  the 

Countess  of .     After  all,  there  was  nothing  very 

characteristic.  The  bridegroom  is  a  young  man  of 
English  birth,  son  of  the  Countess  of  St.  G—  - — ,  who 
inhabits  the  third  piano  of  this  Casa  del  Bello.  The 
very  curious  part  of  the  spectacle  was  the  swarm  of 
beggars  who  haunted  the  street  all  day ;  the  most 
wretched  mob  conceivable,  chiefly  women,  with  a  few 
blind  people,  and  some  old  men  and  boys.  Among 
these  the  bridal  party  distributed  their  beneficence  in 
the  shape  of  some  handfuls  of  copper,  with  here  and 
there  a  half-paul  intermixed ;  whereupon  the  whole 
wretched  mob  flung  themselves  in  a  heap  upon  the 
pavement,  struggling,  fighting,  tumbling  one  over  an 
other,  and  then  looking  up  to  the  windows  with  petition 
ary  gestures  for  more  and  more,  and  still  for  more. 
Doubtless,  they  had  need  enough,  for  they  looked 
thin,  sickly,  ill-fed,  and  the  women  ugly  to  the  last 
degree.  The  wedding  party  had  a  breakfast  above 
stairs,  which  lasted  till  four  o'clock,  and  then  the 
bridegroom  took  his  bride  in  a  barouche  and  pair, 
which  was  already  crammed  with  his  own  luggage  and 

hers He  was  a  well-looking  young  man  enough, 

in  a  uniform  of  French  gray  with  silver  epaulets  ; 
more  agreeable  in  aspect' than  his  bride,  who,  I  think, 
will  have  the  upper  hand  in  their  domestic  life.  I 
observed  that,  on  getting  into  the  barouche,  he  sat 
VOL.  u.  5  G 


98  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

down  on  her  dress,  as  he  could  not  well  help  doing, 
and  received  a  slight  reprimand  in  consequence.  After 
their  departure,  the  wedding  guests  took  their  leave ; 
the  most  noteworthy  person  being  the  Pope's  Nuncio 
(the  young  man  being  son  of  the  Pope's  Chamberlain, 
and  one  of  the  Grand  Duke's  Noble  Guard),  an  ecclesi 
astical  personage  in  purple  stockings,  attended  by  two 
priests,  all  of  whom  got  into  a  coach,  the  driver  and 
footmen  of  which  wore  gold-laced  cocked  hats  and 
other  splendors. 

To-day  I  paid  a  short  visit  to  the  gallery  of  the 
Pitti  Palace.  I  looked  long  at  a  Madonna  of  Raphael' s, 
the  one  which  is  usually  kept  in  the  Grand  Duke's 
private  apartments,  only  brought  into  the  public  gal 
lery  for  the  purpose  of  being  copied.  It  is  the  holiest 
of  all  Raphael's  Madonnas,  with  a  great  reserve  in 
the  expression,  a  sense  of  being  apart,  and  yet  with 
the  utmost  tenderness  and  sweetness ;  although  she 
drops  her  eyelids  before  her  like  a  veil,  as  it  were, 
and  has  a  primness  of  eternal  virginity  about  the 
mouth.  It  is  one  of  Raphael's  earlier  works,  when 
he  mixed  more  religious  sentiment  with  his  paint  than 
afterwards.  Perugino's  pictures  give  the  impression 
of  greater  sincerity  and  earnestness  than  Raphael's, 
though  the  genius  of  Raphael  often  gave  him  miracu 
lous  vision. 

July  28th.  —  Last  evening  we  went  to  the  Powers' s, 
and  sat  with  them  on  the  terrace,  at  the  top  of  the 
house,  till  nearly  ten  o'clock.  It  was  a  delightful, 
calm,  summer  evening,  and  we  were  elevated  far 
above  all  the  adjacent  roofs,  and  had  a  prospect  of  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  99 

greater  part  of  Florence  and  its  towers,  and  the  sur 
rounding  hills,  while  directly  beneath  us  rose  the 
trees  of  a  garden,  and  they  hardly  sent  their  summits 
higher  than  we  sat.  At  a  little  distance,  with  only  a 
house  or  two  between,  was  a  theatre  in  full  action, 
the  Teatro  Goldoni,  which  is  an  open  amphitheatre,  in 
the  ancient  fashion,  without  any  roof.  We  could  see 
the  upper  part  of  the  proscenium,  and,  had  we  been  a 
little  nearer,  might  have  seen  the  whole  performance, 
as  did  several  boys  who  crept  along  the  tops  of  the 
surrounding  houses.  As  it  was,  we  heard  the  music 
and  the  applause,  and  now  and  then  an  actor's  stento 
rian  tones,  when  we  chose  to  listen.  Mrs.  P and 

iny   wife,   U and   Master   Bob,    sat   in   a   group 

together,  and  chatted  in  one  corner  of  our  aerial 
drawing-room,  while  Mr.  Powers  and  myself  leaned 
against  the  parapet,  and  talked  of  innumerable  things. 
When  the  clocks  struck  the  hour,  or  the  bells  rung  from 
the  steeples,  as  they  are  continually  doing,  I  spoke  of 
the  sweetness  of  the  Florence  bells,  the  tones  of  some 
of  them  being  as  if  the  bell  were  full  of  liquid  melody, 
and  shed  it  through  the  air  on  being  upturned.  I 
had  supposed,  in  my  lack  of  musical  ear,  that  the 
bells  of  the  Campanile  were  the  sweetest;  but  Mr. 
Powers  says  that  there  is  a  defect  in  their  tone,  and 
that  the  bell  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  is  the  most 
melodious  he  ever  heard.  Then  he  spoke  of  his  having 
been  a  manufacturer  of  organs,  or,  at  least,  of  reeds 
for  organs,  at  one  period  of  his  life.  I  wonder  what 
he  has  not  been  !  He  told  me  of  an  invention  of  his 
in  the  musical  line,  a  jew's-harp  with  two  tongues; 


100  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

and  by  and  by  he  produced  it  for  my  inspection.  It 
was  carefully  kept  in  a  little  wooden  case,  and  was 
very  neatly  and  elaborately  constructed,  with  screws 
to  tighten  it,  and  a  silver  centre-piece  between  the 
two  tongues.  Evidently  a  great  deal  of  thought  had 
been  bestowed  on  this  little  harp ;  but  Mr.  Powers 
told  me  that  it  was  an  utter  failure,  because  the 
tongues  were  apt  to  interfere  and  jar  with  one  another, 
although  the  strain  of  music  was  very  sweet  and  melo 
dious —  as  ha  proved,  by  playing  on  it  a  little — -when 
everything  went  right.  It  was  a  youthful  production, 
and  he  said  that  its  failure  had  been  a  great  disap 
pointment  to  him  at  the  time  ;  whereupon  I  congrat 
ulated  him  that  his  failures  had  been  in  small  matters, 
and  his  successes  in  great  ones. 

We  talked,  furthermore,  about  instinct  and  reason, 
and  whether  the  brute  creation  have  souls,  and,  if 
they  have  none,  how  justice  is  to  be  done  them  for 
their  sufferings  here ;  and  Mr.  Powers  came  finally 
to  the  conclusion  that  brutes  suffer  only  in  appear 
ance,  and  that  God  enjoys  for  them  all  that  they 
seem  to  enjoy,  and  that  man  is  the  only  intelligent 
and  sentient  being.  We  reasoned  high  about  other 
states  of  being ;  and  I  suggested  the  possibility  that 
there  might  be  beings  inhabiting  this  earth",  con 
temporaneously  with  us,  and  close  beside  us,  but  of 
whose  existence  and  whereabout  we  could  have  no 
perception,  nor  they  of  ours,  because  we  arc  endowed 
with  different  sets  of  senses  ;  for  certainly  it  was  in 
God's  power  to  create  beings  who  should  communicate 
with  nature  by  innumerable  other  senses  than  those 


1858.]  ITALY.  101 

few  which  we  possess.  Mr.  Powers  gave  hospitable 
reception  to  this  idea,  and  said  that  it  had  occurred 
to  himself ;  and  he  has  evidently  thought  much  and 
earnestly  about  such  matters ;  but  is  apt  to  let  his 
idea  crystallize  into  a  theory,  before  he  can  have 
sufficient  data  for  it.  He  is  a  Swedenborgian  in 
faith. 

The  moon  had  risen  behind  the  trees,  while  we 
were  talking,  and  Powers  intimated  his  idea  that 
beings  analogous  to  men  —  men  in  everything  except 
the  modifications  necessary  to  adapt  them  to  their 
physical  circumstances  —  inhabited  the  planets,  and 
peopled  them  with  beautiful  shapes.  Each  planet, 
however,  must  have  its  own  standard  of  the  beautiful, 
I  suppose  \  and  probably  his  sculptor's  eye  would  not 
see  much  to  admire  in  the  proportions  of  an  inhab 
itant  of  Saturn. 

The  atmosphere  of  Florence,  at  least  when  we 
ascend  a  little  way  into  it,  suggests  planetary  specu 
lations.  Galileo  found  it  so,  and  Mr.  Powers  and  I 
pervaded  the  whole  universe ;  but  finally  crept  down 
his  garret-stairs,  and  parted,  with  a  friendly  pressure 
of  the  hand. 

VILLA  MONTAUTO. 

MONTE   BENT. 

August  2d.  —  We  had  grown  weary  of  the  heat  of 
Florence  within  the  walls,  ....  there  being  little 
opportunity  for  air  and  exercise  except  within  the 
precincts  of  our  little*  garden,  which,  also,  we  feared 
might  breed  malaria,  or  something  akin  to  it.  We 


102  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

have  therefore  taken  this  suburban  villa  for  the  two 
next  months,  and,  yesterday  morning,  we  all  came 

out  hither.      J had  preceded  us  with  B.   P . 

The  villa  is  on  a  hill  called  Bellosguardo,  about  a  mile 
beyond  the  Porta  Romaua.  Less  than  half  an  hour's 
walk  brought  us,  who  were  on  foot,  to  the  iron  gate 
of  our  villa,  which  we  found  shut  and  locked.  We 
shouted  to  be  let  in,  and  while  waiting  for  somebody 
to  appear,  there  was  a  good  opportunity  to  contem 
plate  the  external  aspect  of  the  villa.  After  we  had 

waited  a  few  minutes,  J came  racing  down  to  the 

gate,  laughing  heartily,  and  said  that  Bob  and  he  had 
been  in  the  house,  but  had  come  out,  shutting  the 
door  behind  them;  and  as  the  door  closed  with  a 
spring-lock,  they  could  not  get  in  again.  Now  as  the 
key  of  the  outer  gate  as  well  as  that  of  the  house 

itself  was  in  the  pocket  of  J 's  coat,  left  inside,  we 

were  shut  out  of  our  own  castle,  and  compelled  to 
carry  on  a  siege  against  it,  without  much  likelihood 
of  taking  it,  although  the  garrison  was  willing  to 

surrender.     But  B.  P called  in  the  assistance  of 

the  contadini  who  cultivate  the  ground,  and  live  in  the 
farm-house  close  by  ;  and  one  of  them  got  into  a 
window  by  means  of  a  ladder,  so  that  the  keys  were 
got,  the  gates  opened,  and  we  finally  admitted.  Be 
fore  examining  any  other  part  of  the  house,  wo 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  which,  indeed,  is  not 
very  high,  in  proportion  to  its  massive  square.  Very 
probably,  its  original  height  was  abbreviated,  in  com 
pliance  with  the  law  that  lowered  so  many  of  the 
fortified  towers  of  noblemen  within  the  walls  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  103 

Florence The  stairs  were  not  of  stone,  built  in 

with  the  original  mass  of  the  tower,  as  in  English 
castles,  but  of  now  decayed  wood,  which  shook  be 
neath  us,  and  grew  more  and  more  crazy  as  we 
ascended.  It  will  not  be  many  years  before  the  height 

of  the    tower   becomes   unattainable Near   at 

hand,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  city,  we  saw  the  convent 
of  Monte  Olivette,  and  other  structures  that  looked 
like  convents,  being  built  round  an  enclosed  square ; 
also  numerous  white  villas,  many  of  which  had  towers, 
like  that  we  were  standing  upon,  square  and  massive, 
some  of  them  battlemented  on  the  summit,  and  others 
apparently  modernized  for  domestic  purposes.  Among 

them  U pointed  out  Galileo's  tower,  whither  she 

made  an  excursion  the  other  day.  It  looked  lower 
than  our  own,  but  seemed  to  stand  on  a  higher  eleva 
tion.  We  also  saw  the  duke's  villa,  the  Poggio,  with 
a  long  avenue  of  cypresses  leading  from  it,  as  if  a 
funeral  were  going  forth.  And  having  wasted  thus 
much  of  description  on  the  landscape,  I  will  finish 
with  saying  that  it  lacked  only  water  to  be  a  very 
fine  one.  It  is  strange  what  a  difference  the  gleam 
of  water  makes,  and  how  a  scene  awakens  and  comes 
to  life  wherever  it  is  visible.  The  landscape,  more 
over,  gives  the  beholder  (at  least,  this  beholder)  a 
sense  of  oppressive  sunshine  and  scanty  shade,  and 
does  not  incite  a  longing  to  wander  through  it  on 
foot,  as  a  really  delightful  landscape  should.  The 
vine,  too,  being  ciiltivated  in  so  trim  a  manner,  does 
not  suggest  that  idea  of  luxuriant  fertility,  which  is 
the  poetical  notion  of  a  vineyard.  The  olive  orchards 


104  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

have  a  pale  and  unlovely  hue.  An  English  view 
•would  have  been  incomparably  richer  in  its  never- 
fading  green  ;  and  in  my  own  country,  the  wooded 
hills  would  have  been  more  delightful  than  these 
peaks  and  ridges  of  dreary  and  barren  sunshine ;  and 
there  would  have  been  the  bright  eyes  of  half  a  dozen 
little  lakes,  looking  heavenward,  within  an  extent 
like  that  of  the  Val  d'  Arno. 

By  and  by  mamma's  carriage  came  along  the  dusty 
road,  and  passed  through  the  iron  gateway,  which  we 
had  left  open  for  her  reception.  We  shouted  down 
to  her  and  R ,  and  they  waved  their  handker 
chiefs  upward  to  us  ;  and,  on  my  way  down,  I  met 

R and  the  servant  coming  up  through  the  ghostly 

rooms. 

The  rest  of  the  day  we  spent  mostly  in  exploring 
the  premises.  The  house  itself  is  of  almost  bewilder 
ing  extent,  insomuch  that  we  might  each  of  us  have 
a  suite  of  rooms  individually.  I  have  established 
myself  on  the  ground-floor,  where  I  have  a  dressing- 
room,  a  large  vaulted  saloon,  hung  with  yellow 
damask,  and  a  square  writing-study,  the  walls  and 
ceilings  of  the  two  latter  apartments  being  orna 
mented  with  angels  and  cherubs  aloft  in  fresco,  and 
with  temples,  statues,  vases,  broken  columns,  peacocks, 
parrots,  vines,  and  sunflowers  below.  I  know  not  how 
many  more  saloons,  anterooms,  and  sleeping-chambers 
there  are  on  this  same  basement  story,  besides  an 
equa'  number  over  them,  and  a  great  subterranean 
establishment.  I  saw  some  immense  jars  there,  which 
I  suppose  were  intended  to  hold  oil ;  and  iron  kettles, 


1858.]  ITALY.  105 

for  what  purpose  I  cannot  tell.  There  is  also  a  chapel 
in  the  house,  but  it  is  locked  up,  and  we  cannot  yet 
with  certainty  find  the  door  of  it,  nor  even,  in  this 
great  wilderness  of  a  house,  decide  absolutely  what 

space  the  holy  precincts  occupy.     Adjoining  U 's 

chamber,  which  is  in  the  tower,  there  is  a  little  ora 
tory,  hung  round  with  sacred  prints  of  very  ancient 
date,  and  with  crucifixes,  holy-water  vases,  and  other 
consecrated  things ;  and  here,  within  a  glass  case, 
there  is  the  representation  of  an  undraped  little  boy 
in  wax,  very  prettily  modelled,  and  holding  up  a  heart 
that  looks  like  a  bit  of  red  sealing-wax.  If  I  had 
found  him  anywhere  else  I  should  have  taken  him  for 
Cupid ;  but,  being  in  an  oratory,  I  presume  him  to 
have  some  religious  signification.  In  the  servants' 
room  a  crucifix  hung  on  one  side  of  the  bed,  and  a 
little  vase  for  holy  water,  now  overgrown  with  a  cob 
web,  on  the  other ;  and,  no  doubt,  all  the  other  sleep 
ing-apartments  would  have  been  equally  well  provided, 
only  that  their  occupants  were  to  be  heretics. 

The  lower  floor  of  the  house  is  tolerably  furnished, 
and  looks  cheerful  with  its  frescos,  although  the  bare 
pavements  in  every  room  give  an  impression  of  dis 
comfort.  But  carpets  are  universally  taken  up  in 
Italy  during  summer-time.  It  must  have  been  an 
immense  family  that  could  have  ever  filled  such  a 
house  with  life.  We  go  on  voyages  of  discovery,  and 
when  in  quest  of  any  particular  point,  are  likely 
enough  to  fetch  up  at  some  other.  This  morning  I 
had  difficulty  in  finding  my  way  again  to  the  top  of 
the  tower.  One  of  the  most  peculiar  rooms  is  con~ 
5* 


10(J  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

structed  close  to  the  tower,  under  the  roof  of  the 
main  building,  but  with  no  external  walls  on  two 
sides !  It  is  thus  left  open  to  the  air,  I  presume  for 
the  sake  of  coolness.  A  parapet  runs  round  the  ex 
posed  sides  for  the  sake  of  security.  Some  of  the 
palaces  in  Florence  have  such  open  loggias  in  their 
upper  stories,  and  I  saw  others  on  our  journey  hither, 
after  arriving  in  Tuscany. 

The  grounds  immediately  around  the  house  are 
laid  out  in  gravel-walks,  and  ornamented  with  shrub 
bery,  and  with  what  ought,  to  be  a  grassy  lawn ;  but 
the  Italian  sun  is  quite  as  little  favorable  to  beauty 
of  that  kind  as  our  own.  I  have  enjoyed  the  luxury, 
however,  almost  for  the  first  time  since  I  left  my  hill 
top  at  the  Wayside,  of  flinging  myself  at  full  length  on 
the  ground  without  any  fear  of  catching  cold.  Moist 
England  would  punish  a  man  soundly  for  taking  such 
liberties  with  her  greensward.  A  podere,  or  culti 
vated  tract,  comprising  several  acres,  belongs  to  the 
villa,  and  seems  to  be  fertile,  like  all  the  surrounding 
country.  The  possessions  of  different  proprietors  are 
not  separated  by  fences,  but  only  marked  out  by 
ditches ;  and  it  seems  possible  to  walk  miles  and 
miles,  along  the  intersecting  paths,  without  obstruc 
tion.  The  rural  laborers,  so  far  as  I  have  observed, 
go  about  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  and  look  very  much 
like  tanned  and  sunburnt  Yankees. 

Last  night  it  was  really  a  work  of  time  and  toil  to 
go  about  making  our  defensive  preparations  for  the 
night ;  first  closing  the  iron  gate,  then  the  ponderous 
and  complicated  fastenings  of  the  house  door,  then 


1858.]  ITALY.  107 

the  separate  barricadoes  of  each  iron-barred  window 
on  the  lower  floor,  with  a  somewhat  slighter  arrange 
ment  above.  There  are  bolts  and  shutters,  however, 
for  every  window  in  the  house,  and  I  suppose  it 
would  not  be  amiss  to  put  them  all  in  use.  Our 
garrison  is  so  small  that  we  must  depend  more  upon 
the  strength  of  our  fortifications  than  upon  our  own 
active  efforts  in  case  of  an  attack.  In  England,  in 
an  insulated  country  house,  we  should  need  all  these 
bolts  and  bars,  and  Italy  is  not  thought  to  be  the 
safer  country  of  the  two. 

It  deserves  to  be  recorded  that  the  Count  Montauto, 
a  nobleman,  and  seemingly  a  man  of  property,  should 
deem  it  worth  while  to  let  his  country  seat,  and  re 
side  during  the  hot  months  in  his  palace  in  the  city, 
for  the  consideration  of  a  comparatively  small  sum  a 
month.  He  seems  to  contemplate  returning  hither 
for  the  autumn  and  winter,  when  the  situation  must 
be  very  windy  and  bleak,  and  the  cold  deathlike  in 
these  great  halls ;  and  then,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  he 
will  let  his  palace  in  town.  The  Count,  through  the 
agency  of  his  son,  bargained  very  stiffly  for,  and  finally 
obtained,  three  dollars  in  addition  to  the  sum  which 
we  at  first  offered  him.  This  indicates  that  even  a 
little  money  is  still  a  matter  of  great  moment  in  Italy. 
Signor  del  Bello,  who,  I  believe,  is  also  a  nobleman, 
haggled  with  us  about  some  cracked  crockery  at  our 
late  residence,  and  finally  demanded  and  received  fifty 
cents  in  compensation.  But  this  poor  gentleman  has 
been  a  spendthrift,  and  now  acts  as  the  agent  of 
another. 


108  FRENCH  AXD  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

.  August  3d.  —  Yesterday  afternoon  "William  Story 
called  on  me,  he  being  on  a  day  or  two's  excursion 
from  Siena,  where  he  is  spending  the  summer  with  his 
family.  He  was  very  entertaining  and  conversativc, 
as  usual,  and  said,  in  reply  to  my  question  whether  ho 
were  not  anxious  to  return  to  Cleopatra,  that  he  had 
already  sketched  out  another  subject  for  sculpture, 
which  would  employ  him  during  next  winter.  He 
told  me,  what  I  was  glad  to  hear,  that  his  sketches 
of  Italian  life,  intended  for  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  and 
supposed  to  be  lost,  have  been  recovered.  Speaking 
of  the  superstitiousness  of  the  Italians,  he  said  that 
they  universally  believe  in  the  influence  of  the  evil 
eye.  The  evil  influence  is  supposed  not  to  be  depend 
ent  on  the  will  of  the  possessor  of  the  evil  eye  ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  persons  to  whom  he  wishes  well  are  the 
very  ones  to  suffer  by  it.  It  is  oftener  found  in 
monks  than  in  any  other  class  of  people  ;  and  on 
meeting  a  monk,  and  encountering  his  eye,  an  Italian 
usually  makes  a  defensive  sign  by  putting  both  hands 
behind  him,  with  the  forefingers  and  little  fingers 
extended,  although  it  is  a  controverted  point  whether 
it  be  not  more  efficacious  to  extend  the  hand  with  its 
outspread  fingers  towards  the  suspected  person.  It  is 
considered  an  evil  omen  to  meet  a  monk  on  first  going 
out  for  the  day.  The  evil  eye  may  be  classified  with 
the  phenomena  of  mesmerism.  The  Italians,  espe 
cially  the  Neapolitans,  very  generally  wear  amulets. 
Pio  Nono,  perhaps  as  being  the  chief  of  all  monks 
and  other  religious  people,  is  supposed  to  have  an  evil 
eye  v,f  tenfold  malignancy ;  and  its  effect  has  been 


1858.]  ITALY.  109 

seen  in  the  ruin  of  all  schemes  for  the  public  good  so 
soon  as  they  are  favored  by  him.  When  the  pillar  in 
the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  commemorative  of  his  dogma  of 
the  Immaculate  Conception,  was  to  be  erected,  the 
people  of  Rome  refused  to  be  present,  or  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  it,  unless  the  pope  promised  to 
abstain  from  interference.  His  holiness  did  promise, 
but  so  far  broke  his  word  as  to  be  present  one  day 
while  it  was  being  erected,  and  on  that  day  a  man 
was  killed.  A  little  while  ago  there  was  a  Lord 
Clifford,  an  English  Catholic  nobleman,  residing  in 
Italy,  and,  happening  to  come  to  Rome,  he  sent  his 
compliments  to  Pio  Nono,  and  requested  the  favor  of 
an  interview.  The  pope,  as  it  happened,  was  indis 
posed,  or  for  some  reason  could  not  see  his  lordship, 
but  very  kindly  sent  him  his  blessing.  Those  who 
knew  of  it  shook  their  heads,  and  intimated  that  it 
would  go  ill  with  his  lordship  now  that  he  had  been 
blessed  by  Pio  Nono,  and  the  very  next  day  poor  Lord 
Clifford  was  dead  !  His  holiness  had  better  construe 
the  scriptural  injunction  literally,  and  take  to  blessing 
his  enemies. 

I  walked  into  town  with  J this  morning,  and, 

meeting  a  monk  in  the  Via  Fornace,  I  thought  it  no 
more  than  reasonable,  as  the  good  father  fixed  his  eyes 
on  me,  to  provide  against  the  worst  bv  putting  both 
hands  behind  me,  with  the  forefingers  and  little  fingers 
stuck  out.  i;\..-f  H 

In  speaking  of  the  little  oratory  connected  with 

U 's  chamber,  I  forgot  to  mention  the  most 

remarkable  object  in  it.  It  is  a  skull,  the  size  of 


110  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

life  (or  death) This  part  of  the  house  must  be 

very  old,  probably  coeval  with  the  tower.  The  ceil 
ing  of  U 's  apartment  is  vaulted  with  intersecting 

arches ;  and  adjoining  it  is  a  very  large  saloon,  like 
wise  with  a  vaulted  and  groined  ceiling,  and  having 
a  cushioned  divan  running  all  round  the  walls.  Tho 
windows  of  these  rooms  look  out  on  the  Val  d'  Arno. 

The  apartment  above  this  saloon  is  of  the  same 
size,  and  hung  with  engraved  portraits,  printed  on 
large  sheets  by  the  score  and  hundred  together,  and 
enclosed  in  wooden  frames.  They  comprise  the  whole 
series  of  Roman  emperors,  the  succession  of  popes,  the 
kings  of  Europe,  the  doges  of  Venice,  and  the  sultans 
of  Turkey.  The  engravings  bear  different  dates  be 
tween  1G85  and  thirty  years  later,  and  were  executed 
at  Rome. 

August  4th.  —  We  ascended  our  tower  yesterday 
afternoon  to  see  the  sunset.  In  my  first  sketch  of  the 
Val  d'  Arno  I  said  that  the  Arno  seemed  to  hold  its 
course  near  the  bases  of  the  hills.  I  now  observe  that 
the  line  of  trees  which  marks  its  current  divides  the 
valley  into  two  pretty  equal  parts,  and  the  river  runs 

nearly  east  and  west At  last,  when  it  was 

growing  dark,  we  went  down,  groping  our  way  over 
the  shaky  staircases,  and  peeping  into  each  dark 

chamber  as  we  passed.  I  gratified  J exceedingly 

by  hitting  my  nose  against  the  wall.  Reaching  the 
bottom,  I  went  into  the  great  saloon,  and  stood  at  a 
window  watching  the  lights  twinkle  forth,  near  and 
far,  in  the  valley,  and  listening  to  the  convent  bells 
that  sounded  from  Monte  Olivetto,  and  more  remotely 


1858.]  ITALY.  Ill 

still.  The  stars  came  out,  and  the  constellation  of 
the  Dipper  hung  exactly  over  the  Val  d'  Arno,  pointing 
to  the  North  Star  above  the  hills  on  my  right. 

August  12th.  —  We  drove  into  town  yesterday  after 
noon,  with  Miss  Blagden,  to  call  on  Mr.  Kirkup,  an 
old  Englishman  who  has  resided  a  great  many  years 
in  Florence.  He  is  noted  as  an  antiquarian,  and  has 
the  reputation  of  being  a  necromancer,  not  unde 
servedly,  as  he  is  deeply  interested  in  spirit-rappings, 
and  holds  converse,  through  a  medium,  with  dead 
poets  and  emperors.  He  lives  in  an  old  house,  for 
merly  a  residence  of  the  Knights  Templars,  hanging 
over  the  Arno,  just  as  you  come  upon  the  Ponte  Vec- 
chio ;  and,  going  up  a  dark  staircase  and  knocking  at  a 
door  on  one  side  of  the  landing-place,  we  were  received 
by  Mr.  Kirkup.  He  had  had  notice  of  our  visit,  and 
was  prepared  for  it,  being  dressed  in  a  blue  frock-coat 
of  rather  an  old  fashion,  with  a  velvet  collar,  and  in  a 
thin  waistcoat  and  pantaloons  fresh  from  the  drawer  ; 
looking  very  sprucely,  in  short,  and  unlike  his  custom 
ary  guise,  for  Miss  Blagden  hinted  to  us  that  the  poor 
gentleman  is  generally  so  untidy  that  it  is  not  quite 
pleasant  to  take  him  by  the  hand.  He  is  rather  low 
of  stature,  with  a  pale,  shrivelled  face,  and  hair  and 
beard  perfectly  white,  and  the  hair  of  a  particularly 
soft  and  silken  texture.  He  has  a  high,  thin  nose,  of 
the  English  aristocratic  type  ;  his  eyes  have  a  queer, 
rather  wild  look,  and  the  eyebrows  are  arched  above 
them,  so  that  he  seems  all  the  time  to  be  seeing  some 
thing  that  strikes  him  ^rith  surprise.  I  judged  him 
to  be  a  little  crack-brained,  chiefly  on  the  strength 


112  FRENCH   AND   ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.         [1858. 

of  this  expression.  His  whole  make  is  delicate,  his 
hands  white  and  small,  and  his  appearance  and  man 
ners  those  of  a  gentleman,  with  rather  more  embroid 
ery  of  courtesy  than  belongs  to  an  Englishman.  He 
appeared  to  be  very  nervous,  tremulous,  indeed,  to  his 
fingers'  ends,  without  being  in  any  degree  disturbed 
or  embarrassed  by  our  presence.  Finally,  he  is  very 
deaf;  an  infirmity  that  quite  took  away  my  pleasure 
in  the  interview,  because  it  is  impossible  to  say  any 
thing  worth  while  when  one  is  compelled  to  raise  one's 
voice  above  its  ordinary  level. 

He  ushered  us  through  two  or  three  large  rooms, 
dark,  dusty,  hung  with  antique-looking  pictures,  and 
lined  with  bookcases  containing,  I  doubt  not,  a  very 
curious  library.  Indeed,  he  directed  my  attention  to 
one  case,  and  said  that  he  had  collected  those  works, 
in  former  days,  merely  for  the  sake  of  laughing  at 
them.  They  were  books  of  magic  and  occult  sciences. 
What  he  seemed  really  to  value,  however,  were  some 
manuscript  copies  of  Dante,  of  which  he  showed  us 
two ;  one,  a  folio  on  parchment,  beautifully  written  in 
German  text,  the  letters  as  clear  and  accurately  cut  as 
printed  type;  the  other  a  small  volume,  fit,  as  Mr. 
Kirkup  said,  to  be  carried  in  a  capacious  mediaeval 
sleeve.  This  also  wras  on  vellum,  and  as  elegantly 
executed  as  the  larger  one  ;  but  the  larger  had  beau 
tiful  illuminations,  the  vermilion  and  gold  of  which 
looked  as  brilliant  now  as  they  did  five  centuries  ago. 
Both  of  these  books  were  written  early  in  the  four 
teenth  century.  Mr.  Kirkup  has  also  "a  plaster  cast 
of  Dante's  face,  which  he  believes  to  be  the  original 


1858.]  ITALY.  113 

one  taken  from  his  face  after  death  ;  and  he  has  like 
wise  his  own  accurate  tracing  from  Giotto's  fresco  of 
Dante  in  the  chapel  of  the  Bargello.  This  fresco  was 
discovered  through  Mr.  Kirkup's  means,  and  the 
tracing  is  particularly  valuable,  because  the  original 
has  been  almost  destroyed  by  rough  usage  in  drawing 
out  a  nail  that  had  been  driven  into  the  eye.  It 
represents  the  profile  of  a  youthful  but  melancholy 
face,  and  has  the  general  outline  of  Dante's  features 
in  other  portraits. 

Dante  has  held  frequent  communications  with  Mr. 
Kirkup  through  a  medium,  the  poet  being  described 
by  the  medium  as  wearing  the  same  dress  seen  in  the 
youthful  portrait,  but  as  bearing  more  resemblance  to 
the  cast  taken  from  his  dead  face  than  to  the  picture 
from  his  youthful  one. 

There  was  a  very  good  picture  of  Savonarola  in  one 
of  the  rooms,  and  many  other  portraits,  paintings,  and 
drawings,  some  of  them  ancient,  and  others  the  work 
of  Mr.  Kirkup  himself.  He  has  the  torn  fragment  of 
an  exquisite  drawing  of  a  nude  figure  by  Rubens,  and 
a  portfolio  of  other  curious  drawings.  And  besides 
books  and  works  of  art,  he  has  no  end  of  antique 
knickknackeries,  none  of  which  we  had  any  time  to 
look  at ;  among  others  some  instruments  with  which 
nuns  used  to  torture  themselves  in  their  convents  by 
way  of  penance.  But  the  greatest  curiosity  of  all, 
and  no  antiquity,  was  a  pale,  large-eyed  little  girl, 
about  four  years  old,  who  followed  the  conjurer's 
footsteps  wherever  he  went.  She  was  the  brightest 
and  merriest  little  thing  in  the  world,  and  frisked 

H 


114  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

through  those  shadowy  old  chambers,  among  the  dead 
people's  trumpery,  as  gayly  as  a  butterfly  flits  among 
flowers  and  sunshine. 

The  child's  mother  was  a  beautiful  girl  named 
Regina,  whose  portrait  Mr.  Kirkup  showed  us  on  the 
wall.  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  and  striking  face 
claiming  to  be  a  real  one.  She  was  a  Florentine,  of 
low  birth,  and  she  lived  with  the  old  necromancer  as 
his  spiritual  medium.  He  showed  us  a  journal,  kept 
during  her  lifetime,  and  read  from  it  his  notes  of  an 
interview  with  the  Czar  Alexander,  when  that  poten 
tate  communicated  to  Mr.  Kirkup  that  he  had  been 
poisoned.  The  necromancer  set  a  great  value  upon 
Regina,  ....  and  when  she  died  he  received  her  poor 
baby  into  his  heart,  and  now  considers  it  absolutely 
his  own.  At  any  rate,  it  is  a  happy  belief  for  him, 
since  he  has  nothing  else  in  the  world  to  love,  and 
loves  the  child  entirely,  and  enjoys  all  the  bliss  of 
fatherhood,  though  he  must  have  lived  as  much  as 
seventy  years  before  he  began  to  taste  it. 

The  child  inherits  her  mother's  gift  of  communica 
tion  with  the  spiritual  world,  so  that  the  conjurer  can 
still  talk  with  Regina  through  the  baby  which  she 
left,  and  not  only  with  her,  but  with  Dante,  and  any 
other  great  spirit  that  may  choose  to  visit  him.  It  is 
a  very  strange  story,  and  this  child  might  be  put  at 
once  into  a  romance,  with  all  her  history  and  environ 
ment  ;  the  ancient  Knight  Templar  palace,  with  the 
Arno  flowing  under  the  iron-barred  windows,  and  the 
Ponte  Vecchio,  covered  with  its  jewellers'  shops,  close 
at  hand ;  the  dark,  lofty  chambers  with  faded  frescos 


1858.]  ITALY.  115 

on  the  ceilings,  black  pictures  hanging  on  the  walls, 
old  books  on  the  shelves,  and  hundreds  of  musty 
antiquities,  emitting  an  odor  of  past  centuries ;  the 
shrivelled,  white-bearded  old  man,  thinking  all  the  time 
of  ghosts,  and  looking  into  the  child's  eyes  to  seek 
them  ;  and  the  child  herself,  springing  so  freshly  out 
of  the  soil,  so  pretty,  so  intelligent,  so  playful,  with 
never  a  playmate  save  the  conjurer  and  a  kitten.  It 
is  a  Persian  kitten,  and  lay  asleep  in  a  window ;  but 
when  I  touched  it,  it  started  up  at  once  in  as  game 
some  a  mood  as  the  child  herself. 

The  child  looks  pale,  and  no  wonder,  seldom  or 
never  stirring  out  of  that  old  palace,  or  away  from 
the  river  atmosphere.  Miss  Blagden  advised  Mr. 
Kirkup  to  go  with  her  to  the  seaside  or  into  the 
country,  and  he  did  not  deny  that  it  might  do  her 
good,  but  seemed  to  be  hampered  by  an  old  man's 
sluggishness  and  dislike  of  change.  I  think  he  will 
not  live  a  great  while,  for  he  seems  very  frail.  When 
he  dies  the  little  girl  will  inherit  what  property  he 
may  leave.  A  lady,  Catharine  Fleming,  an  English 
woman,  and  a  friend  of  Mr.  Kirkup,  has  engaged  to 
take  her  in  charge.  She  followed  us  merrily  to  the 
door,  and  so  did  the  Persian  kitten,  and  Mr.  Kirkup 
shook  hands  with  us,  over  and  over  again,  with  viva 
cious  courtesy,  his  manner  having  been  characterized 
by  a  great  deal  of  briskness  throughout  the  interview. 
He  expressed  himself  delighted  to  have  met  me 
(whose  books  he  had  read),  and  said  that  the  day 
would  be  a  memorable  one  to  him,  —  which  I  did  not 
in  the  least  believe. 


116  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Mr.  Kirkup  is  an  intimate  friend  of  Trelawny, 
author  of  "  Adventures  of  a  Younger  Son,"  and,  long 
ago,  the  latter  promised  him  that,  if  he  ever  came 
irito  possession  of  the  family  estate,  he  would  divide 
it  with  him.  Trelawny  did  really  succeed  to  the  es 
tate,  and  lost  no  time  in  forwarding  to  his  friend  the 
legal  documents,  entitling  him  to  half  of  the  property. 
But  Mr.  Kirkup  declined  the  gift,  as  he  himself  was 
not  destitute,  and  Trelawny  had  a  brother.  There 
were  two  pictures  of  Trelawny  in  the  saloons,  one  a 
slight  sketch  on  the  wall,  the  other  a  half-length  por 
trait  in  a  Turkish  dress;  both  handsome,  but  indi 
cating  no  very  amiable  character.  It  is  not  easy  to 
forgive  Trelawny  for  uncovering  dead  Byron's  limbs, 
and  telling  that  terrible  story  about  them,  —  equally 
disgraceful  to  himself,  be  it  truth  or  a  lie. 

It  seems  that  Regina  had  a  lover,  and  a  sister  who 

was   very   disreputable It    rather   adds    than 

otherwise  to  the  romance  of  the  affair,  —  the  idea  that 
this  pretty  little  elf  has  no  right  whatever  to  the 
asylum  which  she  has  found.  Her  name  is  Imogen. 

The  small  manuscript  copy  of  Dante  which  he 
showed  me  was  written  by  a  Florentine  gentleman 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  one  of  whose  ancestors  the 
poet  had  met  and  talked  with  in  Paradise. 

August  \$th. —  Here  is  a  good  Italian  incident, 
which  I  find  in  Valery.  Andrea  del  Castagno  was  a 
painter  in  Florence  in  the  fifteenth  century  ;  and  he 
had  a  friend,  likewise  a  painter,  Domenico  of  Venice. 
The  latter  had  the  secret  of  painting  in  oils,  and 
yielded  to  Castagno's  entreaties  to  impart  it  to  him. 


1858.]  ITALY.  117 

Desirous  of  being  the  sole  possessor  of  this  great 
secret,  Castagno  waited  only  the  night  to  assassinate 
Domenico,  who  so  little  suspected  his  treachery,  that 
he  besought  those  who  found  him  bleeding  and  dying 
to  take  him  to  his  friend  Castagno,  that  he  might  die 
in  his  arms.  The  murderer  lived  to  be  seventy-four 
years  old,  and  his  crime  was  never  suspected  till  he 
himself  revealed  it  on  his  death-bed.  Domenico  did 
actually  die  in  Castagno's  arms.  The  death  scene 
would  have  been  a  good  one  for  the  latter  to  paint 
in  oils. 

September  1st.  — Few  things  journalizable  have  hap 
pened  during  the  last  month,  because  Florence  and 
the  neighborhood  have  lost  their  novelty  ;  and  fur 
thermore,  I  usually  spend  the  whole  day  at  home, 
having  been  engaged  in  planning  and  sketching  out 
a  romance.  I  have  now  done  with  this  for  the 
present,  and  mean  to  employ  the  rest  of  the  time  we 
stay  here  chiefly  in  revisiting  the  galleries,  and  seeing 
what  remains  to  be  seen  in  Florence. 

Last  Saturday,  August  28th,  we  went  to  take  tea  at 
Miss  Blagden's,  who  has  a  weekly  reception  on  that 
evening..  We  found  Mr.  Powers  there,  and  by  and  by 

Mr.  Boott  and  Mr.  Trollope  came  in.  Miss has 

lately  been  exercising  her  faculties  as  a  spiritual 
writing-medium ;  and,  the  conversation  turning  on 
that  subject,  Mr.  Powers  related  some  things  that  he 
had  witnessed  through  the  agency  of  Mr.  Hume,  who 
had  held  a  session  or  two  at  his  house.  He  described 
the  apparition  of  two  mysterious  hands  from  beneath 
a  tabl*1  round  which  the  party  were  seated.  These 


118  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

hands  purported  to  belong  to  the  aunt  of  the  Countess 
Cctterel,  who  was  present,  and  were  a  pair  of  thin, 
delicate,  aged,  ladylike  hands  and  arms,  appearing 
at  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  terminating  at  the  elbow 
in  a  sort  of  white  mist.  One  of  the  hands  took  up  a 
fan  and  began  to  use  it.  The  countess  then  said, 
"Fan  yourself  as  you  used  to  do,  dear  aunt";  and 
forthwith  the  hands  waved  the  fan  back  and  forth  in 
a  peculiar  manner,  which  the  countess  recognized  as 
the  manner  of  her  dead  aunt.  The  spirit  was  then 
requested  to  fan  each  member  of  the  party;  and 
accordingly,  each  separate  individual  round  the  table 
was  fanned  in  turn,  and  felt  the  breeze  sensibly  upon 
his  face.  Finally,  the  hands  sank  beneath  the  table, 
I  believe  Mr.  Powers  said  ;  but  I  am  not  quite  sure 
that  they  did  not  melt  into  the  air.  During  this 
apparition,  Mr.  Hume  sat  at  the  table,  but  not  in 
such  a  position  or  within  such  distance  that  he  could 
have  put  out  or  managed  the  spectral  hands  ;  and  of 
this  Mr.  Powers  satisfied  himself  by  taking  precisely 
the  same  position  after  the  party  had  retired.  Mr. 
Powers  did  not  feel  the  hands  at  this  time,  but  he 
afterwards  felt  the  touch  of  infant  hands,  which  were 
at  the  time  invisible.  He  told  of  many  of  the  won 
ders,  which  seem  to  have  as  much  right  to  be  set 
down  as  facts  as  anything  else  that  depends  on  human 

testimony.    For  example,  Mr.  K ,  one  of  the  party, 

gave  a  sudden  start  and  exclamation.  He  had  felt  on 
his  knee  a  certain  token,  which  could  have  been  given 
him  only  by  a  friend,  long  ago  in  his  grave.  Mr. 
Powers  inquired  what  was  the  last  thing  that  had 


1858.]  ITALY.  119 

been  given  as  a  present  to  a  deceased  child ;  and 
suddenly  both  he  and  his  wife  felt  a  prick  as  of  some 
sharp  instrument,  on  their  knees.  The  present  had 
been  a  penknife.  1  have  forgotten  other  incidents 
quite  as  striking  as  these  ;  but,  with  the  exception 
of  the  spirit-hands,  they  seemed  to  be  akin  to  those 
that  have  been  produced  by  mesmerism,  returning  the 
inquirer's  thoughts  and  veiled  recollections  to  himself, 
as  answers  to  his  queries.  The  hands  are  certainly 
an  inexplicable  phenomenon.  Of  course,  they  are  not 
portions  of  a  dead  body,  nor  any  other  kind  of  sub 
stance  ;  they  are  impressions  on  the  two  senses,  sight 
and  touch,  but  how  produced  I  cannot  tell.  Even 
admitting  their  appearance,  —  and  certainly  I  do 
admit  it  as  freely  and  fully  as  if  I  had  seen  them 
myself,  —  there  is  no  need  of  supposing  them  to  come 
from  the  world  of  departed  spirits. 

Powers  seems  to  put  entire  faith  in  the  verity  of 
spiritual  communications,  while  acknowledging  the 
difficulty  of  identifying  spirits  as  being  what  they 
pretend  to  be.  He  is  a  Swedenborgian,  and  so  far 
prepared  to  put  faith  in  many  of  these  phenomena. 
As  for  Hume,  Powers  gives  a  decided  opinion  that  he 
is  a  knave,  but  thinks  him  so  organized,  nevertheless, 
as  to  be  a  particularly  good  medium  for  spiritual 
communications.  Spirits,  I  suppose,  like  earthly 
people,  are  obliged  to  use  such  instruments  as  will 
answer  their  purposes ;  but  rather  than  receive  a 
message  from  a  dead  friend  through  the  organism 
of  a  rogue  or  charlatan,  methinks  I  would  choose  to 
wait  till  we  meet.  But  what  most  astonishes  me  is 


120  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  indifference  with  which  I  listen  to  these  marvels. 
They  throw  old  ghost-stories  quite  into  the  shade  ; 
they  bring  the  whole  world  of  spirits  down  amongst 
us,  visibly  and  audibly;  they  are  absolutely  proved 
to  be  sober  facts  by  evidence  that  would  satisfy  us 
of  any  other  alleged  realities ;  and  yet  I  cannot  force 
my  mind  to  interest  myself  in  them.  They  are  facts 
to  my  understanding,  which,  it  might  have  been 
anticipated,  would  have  been  the  last  to  acknowledge 
them ;  but  they  seem  not  to  be  facts  to  my  intuitions 
and  deeper  perceptions.  My  inner  soul  does  not  in 
the  least  admit  them ;  there  is  a  mistake  somewhere. 
So  idle  and  empty  do  I  feel  these  stories  to  be,  that  I 
hesitated  long  whether  or  no  to  give  up  a  few  pages 
of  this  not  very  important  journal  to  the  record  of 
them. 

We  have  had  written  communications  through 
Miss  — —  with  several  spirits ;  my  wife's  father, 
mother,  two  brothers,  and  a  sister,  who  died  long  ago, 
in  infancy ;  a  certain  Mary  Hall,  who  announces  her 
self  as  the  guardian  spirit  of  Miss  —  -  ;  and,  queerest 
of  all,  a  Mary  Runnel,  who  seems  to  be  a  wandering 
spirit,  having  relations  with  nobody,  but  thrusts  her 
finger  into  everybody's  affairs.  My  wife's  mother  is 
the  principal  communicant ;  she  expresses  strong 
affection,  and  rejoices  at  the  opportunity  of  conversing 
with  her  daughter.  She  often  says  very  pretty  things ; 
for  instance,  in  a  dissertation  upon  heavenly  music  ; 
but  there  is  a  lack  of  substance  in  her  talk,  a  want  of 
gripe,  a  delusive  show,  a  sentimental  surface,  with  no 
bottom  beneath  it.  The  same  sort  of  thing  has  struck 


1858.]  ITALY.  121 

me  in  all  the  poetry  and  prose  that  I  have  read  from 
spiritual  sources.  I  should  judge  that  these  effusions 
emanated  from  earthly  minds,  but  had  undergone 
some  process  that  had  deprived  them  of  solidity  and 
warmth.  In  the  communications  between  my  wife 
and  her  mother,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  (Miss 

« being  unconsciously  in  a  mesmeric  state)  all  the 

/esponses  aro  conveyed  to  her  fingers  from  my  wife's 
mind 

We  have  tried  the  spirits  by  various  test  questions, 
on  every  one  of  which  they  have  failed  egregiously. 
Here,  however,  the  aforesaid  Mary  Runnel  comes  into 
play.  The  other  spirits  have  told  us  that  the  veracity 
of  this  spirit  is  not  to  be  depended  upon ;  and  so, 
whenever  it  is  possible,  poor  Mary  Runnel  is  thrust 
forward  to  bear  the  odium  of  every  mistake  or  false 
hood.  They  have  avowed  themselves  responsible  for 
all  statements  signed  by  themselves,  and  have  there 
by  brought  themselves  into  more  than  one  inextricable 
dilemma ;  but  it  is  very  funny,  where  a  response  or  a, 
matter  of  fact  has  not  been  thus  certified,  how  invari 
ably  Mary  Runnel  is  made  to  assume  the  discredit  of 
it,  on  its  turning  cut  to  be  false.  It  is  the  most  in 
genious  arrangement  that  could  possibly  have  been, 
contrived ;  and  somehow  or  other,  the  pranks  of  this 
lying  spirit  give  a  reality  to  the  conversations  which 
the  more  respectable  ghosts  quite  fail  in  imparting. 

The  whole  matter  seems  to  me  a  sort  of  dreaming 
awake.  It  resembles  a  dream,  in  that  the  whole 
material  is,  from  the  first,  in  the  dreamer's  mind, 
though  concealed  at  various  depths  below  the  surface ; 

VOL.  II.  6 


122  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

the  dead  appear  alive,  as  they  always  do  in  dreams  ; 
unexpected  combinations  occur,  as  continually  in 
dreams  ;  the  mind  speaks  through  the  various  persons 
of  the  drama,  and  sometimes  astonishes  itself  with  its 
own  wit,  wisdom,  and  eloquence,  as  often  in  dreams  ; 
but,  in  both  cases,  the  intellectual  manifestations  are 
really  of  a  very  flimsy  texture.  Mary  Runnel  is  the 
only  personage  who  does  not  come  evidently  from 
dream-land  ;  and  she,  I  think,  represents  that  lurking 
scepticism,  that  sense  of  unreality,  of  which  we  are 
often  conscious,  amid  the  most  vivid  phantasmagoria 
of  a  dream.  I  should  be  glad  to  believe  in  the  genu 
ineness  of  these  spirits,  if  I  could ;  but  the  above  is 
the  conclusion  to  which  my  soberest  thoughts  tend. 
There  remains,  of  course,  a  great  deal  for  which  I  can 
not  account,  and  I  cannot  sufficiently  wonder  at  the 
pigheadedness  both  of  metaphysicians  and  physiolo 
gists,  in  not  accepting  the  phenomena,  so  far  as  to 
make  them  the  subject  of  investigation. 

In  writing  the  communications,  Miss holds  the 

pencil  rather  loosely  between  her  fingers  ;  it  moves 
rapidly,  and  with  equal  facility  whether  she  fixes  her 
eyes  on  the  paper  or  not.  The  handwriting  has  far 
more  freedom  than  her  own.  At  the  conclusion  of  a 
sentence,  the  pencil  lays  itself  down.  She  sometimes 
has  a  perception  of  each  word  before  it  is  written ;  at 
other  times,  she  is  quite  unconscious  what  is  to  come 
next.  Her  integrity  is  absolutely  indubitable,  and 
she  herself  totally  disbelieves  in  the  spiritual  authen 
ticity  of  what  is  communicated  through  her  medium. 

September    3d.  —  We  walked  into   Florence  y ester- 


1858.]  ITALY.  123 

day,  betimes  after  breakfast,  it  being  comfortably  cool, 
and  a  gray,  English  sky ;  though,  indeed,  the  clouds 
had  a  tendency  to  mass  themselves  more  than  they 
do  on  an  overcast  English  day.  We  found  it  warmer 
in  Florence,  but  not  inconveniently  so,  even  in  the 
sunniest  streets  and  squares. 

We  went  to  the  Uffizzi  gallery,  the  whole  of  which 
with  its  contents  is  now  familiar  to  us,  except  the 
room  containing  drawings ;  and  our  to-day's  visit  was 
especially  to  them.  The  door  giving  admittance  to 
them  is  the  very  last  in  the  gallery ;  and  the  rooms, 
three  in  number,  are,  I  should  judge,  over  the  Loggia 
de  Lanzi,  looking  on  the  Grand  Ducal  Piazza.  The 
drawings  hang  on  the  walls,  framed  and  glazed  ;  and 
number,  perhaps,  from  one  to  two  hundred  in  *each 
room ;  but  this  is  only  a  small  portion  of  the  collec 
tion,  which  amounts,  it  is  said,  to  twenty  thousand, 
and  is  reposited  in  portfolios.  The  sketches  on  the 
walls  are  changed,  from  time  to  time,  so  as  to  exhibit 
all  the  most  interesting  ones  in  turn.  Their  whole 
charm  is  artistic,  imaginative,  and  intellectual,  and  in 
no  degree  of  the  upholstery  kind  ;  their  outward  pre 
sentment  being,  in  general,  a  design  hastily  shadowed 
out,  by  means  of  colored  crayons,  on  tinted  paper,  or 
perhaps  scratched  rudely  in  pen  and  ink  ;  or  drawn  in 
pencil  or  charcoal,  and  half  rubbed  out ;  very  rough 
things,  indeed,  in  many  instances,  and  the  more  inter 
esting  on  that  account,  because  it  seems  as  if  the 
artist  had  bestirred  himself  to  catch  the  first  glimpse 
of  an  image  that  did  but 'reveal  itself  and  vanish.  The 
sheets,  or  sometimes  scraps  of  paper,  on  which  they 


124  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

are  drawn,  are  discolored  with  age,  creased,  soiled  ; 
but  yet  you  are  magnetized  by  the  hand  of  Raphael, 
Michael  Angelo,  Leonardo,  or  whoever  may  have  jotted 
down  those  rough-looking  master-touches.  They  cer 
tainly  possess  a  charm  that  is  lost  in  the  finished  pic 
ture  ;  and  I  was  more  sensible  of  forecasting  thought, 
skill,  and  prophetic  design,  in  these  sketches  than  in 
the  most  consummate  works  that  have  been  elaborated 
from  them.  There  is  something  more  divine  in  these  ; 
for  I  suppose  the  first  idea  of  a  picture  is  real  inspira 
tion,  and  all  the  subsequent  elaboration  of  the  master 
serves  but  to  cover  up  the  celestial  germ  with  some 
thing  that  belongs  to  himself.  At  any  rate,  the  first 
sketch  is  the  more  suggestive,  and  sets  the  spectator's 
imagination  at  work ;  whereas  the  picture,  if  a  good 
one,  leaves  him  nothing  to  do  ;  if  bad,  it  confuses, 
stupefies,  disenchants,  and  disheartens  him.  First 
thoughts  have  an  aroma  and  fragrance  in  them,  that 
they  do  not  lose  in  three  hundred  years ;  for  so  old, 
and  a  good  deal  more,  are  some  of  these  sketches. 

None  interested  me  more  than  some  drawings,  on 
separate  pieces  of  paper,  by  Perugino,  for  his  picture 
of  the  mother  and  friends  of  Jesus  round  his  dead 
body,  now  at  the  Pitti  Palace.  The  attendant  figures 
are  distinctly  made  out,  as  if  the  Virgin,  and  John, 
and  Mary  Magdalen  had  each  favored  the  painter  with 
a  sitting  ;  but  the  body  of  Jesus  lies  in  the  midst, 
dimly  hinted  witli  a  few  pencil  marks. 

There  were  several  designs  by  Michael  Angelo,  none 
of  which  made  much  impression  on  me  ;  the  most 
striking  was  a  very  ugly  demon,  afterwards  painted 


1858.]  ITALY.  125 

in  the  Sistine  Chapel.  Baphael  shows  several  sketches 
of  Madonnas,  —  one  of  which  has  flowered  into  the 
Grand  Duke's  especial  Madonna  at  the  Pitti  Palace, 
but  with  a  different  face.  His  sketches  were  mostly 
very  rough  in  execution  ;  but  there  were  two  or  three 
designs  for  frescos,  I  think,  in  the  Vatican,  very  care 
fully  executed ;  perhaps  because  these  works  were 
mainly  to  be  done  by  other  hands  than  his  own.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  Pre-Raphaelite  artists  made  more 
careful  drawings  than  the  later  ones  ;  and  it  rather 
surprised  me  to  see  how  much  science  they  pos- 


"We  looked  at  few  other  things  in  the  gallery ;  and, 
indeed,  it  was  not  one  of  the  days  when  works  of  art 
find  me  impressible.  We  stopped  a  little  while  in  the 
Tribune,  but  the  Venus  di  Medici  seemed  to  me  to 
day  little  more  than  any  other  piece  of  yellowish 
white  marble.  How  strange  that  a  goddess  should 
stand  before  us  absolutely  unrecognized,  even  when 
we  know  by  previous  revelations  that  she  is  nothing 
short  of  divine  !  It  is  also  strange  that,  unless  when 
one  feels  the  ideal  charm  of  a  statue,  it  becomes  one 
of  the  most  tedious  and  irksome  things  in  the  world. 
Either  it  must  be  a  celestial  thing  or  an  old  lump  of 
stone,  dusty  and  time-soiled,  and  tiring  out  your 
patience  with  eternally  looking  just  the  same.  Once 
in  a  while  you  penetrate  through  the  crust  of  the 
old  sameness,  and  see  the  statue  forever  new  and 
immortally  young. 

Leaving  the  gallery  we  walked  towards  the  Duomo, 
and  on  our  way  stopped  to  look  at  the  beautiful  Gothic 


126  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

niches  hollowed  into  the  exterior  walls  of  the  Church 
of  San  Michele.  They  are  now  in  the  process  of  being 
cleaned,  and  each  niche  is  elaborately  inlaid  with 
precious  marbles,  and  some  of  them  magnificently 
gilded ;  and  they  are  all  surmounted  with  marble 
canopies  as  light  and  graceful  as  frost-work.  Within 
stand  statues,  St.  George,  and  many  other  saints,  by 
Donatello  and  others,  and  all  taking  a  hold  upon  one's 
sympathies,  even  if  they  be  not  beautiful.  Classic 
statues  escape  you  with  their  slippery  beauty,  as  if 
they  were  made  of  ice.  Rough  and  ugly  things  can 
be  clutched.  This  is  nonsense,  and  yet  it  means 

something The  streets  were  thronged  and  vo- 

ciferative  with  more  life  and  outcry  than  usual.  It 
must  have  been  market-day  in  Florence,  for  the  com 
merce  of  the  streets  was  in  great  vigor,  narrow  tables 
being  set  out  in  them,  and  in  the  squares,  burdened 
with  all  kinds  of  small  merchandise,  such  as  cheap 
jewelry,  glistening  as  brightly  as  what  we  had  just 
seen  in  the  gem-room  of  the  Uffizzi  ;  crockery  ware  ; 
toys,  books,  Italian  and  French ;  silks ;  slippers ;  old 
iron ;  all  advertised  by  the  dealers  with  terribly  loud 
and  high  voices,  that  reverberated  harshly  from  side 
to  side  of  the  narrow  streets.  Italian  street-cries  go 
through  the  head,  not  that  they  are  so  very  sharp, 
but  exceedingly  hard,  like  a  blunt  iron  bar. 

We  stood  at  the  base  of  the  Campanile,  and  looked 
at  the  bas-reliefs  which  wreathe  it  round ;  and,  above 
them,  a  row  of  statues ;  and  from  bottom  to  top  a 
marvellous  minuteness  of  inlaid  marbles;  filling  up 
the  vast  and  beautiful  design  of  this  heaven-aspiring 


1858.]  ITALY.  127 

tower.  Looking  upward  to  its  lofty  summit,  —  where 
angels  might  alight,  lapsing  downward  from  heaven, 
and  gaze  curiously  at  the  bustle  of  men  below,  —  I 
could  not  but  feel  that  there  is  a  moral  charm  in  this 
faithful  minuteness  of  Gothic  architecture,  filling  up 
its  outline  with  a  million  of  beauties  that  perhaps 
may  never  be  studied  out  by  a  single  spectator.  It 
is  the  very  process  of  nature,  and  no  doubt  produces 
an  effect  that  we  know  not  of.  Classic  architecture  is 
nothing  but  an  outline,  and  affords  no  little  points,  no 
interstices  where  human  feelings  may  cling  and  over 
grow  it  like  ivy.  The  charm,  as  I  said,  seems  to  be 
moral  rather  than  intellectual ;  for  in  the  gem-room 
of  the  Uffizzi  you  may  see  fifty  designs,  elaborated  on 
a  small  scale,  that  have  just  as  much  merit  as  the 
design  of  the  Campanile.  If  it  were  only  five  inches 
long,  it  might  be  a  case  for  some  article  of  toilet ; 
being  two  hundred  feet  high,  its  prettiness  develops 
into  grandeur  as  well  as  beauty,  and  it  becomes  really 
one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world.  The  design  of  the 
Pantheon,  on  the  contrary,  would  retain  its  sublimity 
on  whatever  scale  it  might  be  represented. 

Returning  homewards,  we  crossed  the  Ponte  Vecchio, 
and  went  to  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  where 
we  gained  admittance  into  the  rooms  dedicated  to 
Galileo.  They  consist  of  a  vestibule,  a  saloon,  and  a 
semicircular  tribune,  covered  with  a  frescoed  dome, 
beneath  which  stands  a  colossal  statue  of  Galileo, 
long-bearded,  and  clad  in  a  student's  gown,  or  some 
voluminous  garb  of  that  kind.  Around  the  tribune, 
beside  and  behind  the  statue,  are  BIX  niches,  —  in  one 


128  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

of  which  is  preserved  a  forefinger  of  Galileo,  fixed  on 
a  little  gilt  pedestal,  and  pointing  upward,  under  a 
glass  cover.  It  is  very  much  shrivelled  and  mummy- 
like,  of  the  color  of  parchment,  and  is  little  more 
than  a  finger-bone,  with  the  dry  skin  or  flesh  flaking 
away  from  it ;  on  the  whole,  not  a  very  delightful 
relic  •  but  Galileo  used  to  point  heavenward  with  this 
finger,  and  I  hope  has  gone  whither  he  pointed. 

Another  niche  contains  two  telescopes,  wherewith 
he  made  some  of  his  discoveries  ;  they  are  perhaps  a 
yard  long,  and  of  very  small  calibre.  Other  astro 
nomical  instruments  are  displayed  in  the  glass  cases 
that  line  the  rooms  ;  but  I  did  not  understand  their 
use  any  better  than  the  monks,  who  wished  to  burn 
Galileo  for  his  heterodoxy  about  the  planetary 
system 

After  dinner  I  climbed  the  tower Florence 

lay  in  the  sunshine,  level,  compact,  and  small  of 
compass.  Above  the  tiled  roofs  rose  the  tower  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio,  the  loftiest  and  the  most  picturesque, 
though  built,  I  suppose,  with  no  idea  of  making  it  so. 
But  it  attains,  in  a  singular  degree,  the  end  of  causing 
the  imagination  to  fly  upward  and  alight  on  its  airy 
battlements.  Near  it  I  beheld  the  square  mass  of  Or 
San  Michelc,  and  farther  to  the  left  the  bulky  Duomo 
and  the  Campanile  close  beside  it,  like  a  slender 
bride  or  daughter  ;  the  dome  of  San  Lorenzo  too. 
The  Arno  is  nowhere  visible.  Beyond,  and  on  all 
sides  of  the  city,  the  hills  pile  themselves  lazily 
upward  in  ridges,  here  and  there  developing  into  a 
peak  ;  towards  their  bases  white  villas  were  strewn 


1858.]  ITALY.  129 

numerously,  but  the  upper  region  was  lonely  and 
bare. 

As  we  passed  under  the  arch  of  the  Porta  Romana 
this  morning,  on  our  way  into  the  city,  we  saw  a 
queer  object.  It  was  what  we  at  first  took  for  a 
living  man,  in  a  garb  of  light  reddish  or  yellowish 
red  color,  of  antique  or  priestly  fashion,  and  with  a 
cowl  falling  behind.  His  face  was  of  the  same  hue, 
and  seemed  to  have  been  powdered,  as  the  faces  of 
maskers  sometimes  are.  He  sat  in  a  cart,  which  he 
seemed  to  be  driving  into  the  city  with  a  load  of 
earthen  jars  and  pipkins,  the  color  of  which  was 
precisely  like  his  own.  On  closer  inspection,  this 
priestly  figure  proved  to  be  likewise  an  image  of 
earthenware,  but  his  lifelikeness  had  a  very  strange 
and  rather  ghastly  effect.  Adam,  perhaps,  was  made 
of  just  such  red  earth,  and  had  the  complexion  of  this 
figure. 

Sejrtember  7th.  —  I  walked  into  town  yesterday 
morning,  by  way  of  the  Porta  San  Frediano.  The 
gate  of  a  city  might  be  a  good  locality  for  a  chapter  in 
a  novel,  or  for  a  little  sketch  by  itself,  whether  by 
painter  or  writer.  The  great  arch  of  the  gateway, 
piercing  through  the  depth  and  height  of  the  massive 
masonry  beneath  the  battlemented  summit ;  the 
shadow  brooding  below,  in  the  immense  thickness 
of  the  wall  and  beyond  it,  the  vista  of  the  street, 
sunny  and  swarming  with  life  ;  outside  of  the  gate, 
a  throng  of  carts,  laden  with  fruits,  vegetables,  small 
flat  barrels  of  wine,  waiting  to  be  examined  by  the 
custom-house  officers;  carriages  too,  and  foot -passen- 
6*  i 


130  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

gers  entering,  and  others  swarming  outward.  Under 
the  shadowy  arch  are  the  offices  of  the  police  and 
customs,  and  probably  the  guard-room  of  the  soldiers, 
all  hollowed  out  in  the  mass  of  the  gateway.  Civil 
officers  loll  on  chairs  in  the  shade,  perhaps  with  an 
awning  over  their  heads.  Where  the  sun  falls  aslant- 
wise  under  the  arch  a  sentinel,  with  musket  and 
bayonet,  paces  to  and  fro  in  the  entrance,  and  other 
soldiers  lounge  close  by.  The  life  of  the  city  seems 
to  be  compressed  and  made  more  intense  by  this 
barrier  ;  and  on  passing  within  it  you  do  not  breathe 
quite  so  freely,  yet  arc  sensible  of  an  enjoyment  in 
the  close  elbowing  throng,  the  clamor  of  high  voices 
from  side  to  side  of  the  street,  and  the  million  of 
petty  sights,  actions,  traffics,  and  personalities,  all  so 
squeezed  together  as  to  become  a  great  whole. 

The  street  by  which  I  entered  led  me  to  the  Carraja 
Bridge ;  crossing  which,  1  kept  straight  onward  till  I 
came  to  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella.  Doubt 
less,  it  looks  just  the  same  as  when  Boccaccio's  party 
stood  in  a  cluster  on  its  broad  steps  arranging  their 
excursion  to  the  villa.  Thence  I  went  to  the  Church 
of  St.  Lorenzo,  which  I  entered  by  the  side  door,  and 
found  the  organ  sounding  and  a  religious  ceremony 
going  forward.  It  is  a  church  of  sombre  aspect,  with 
its  gray  walls  and  pillars,  but  was  decked  out  for  some 
festivity  with  hangings  of  scarlet  damask  and  gold. 
I  sat  awhile  to  rest  myself,  and  then  pursued  my 
way  to  the  Duomo.  I  entered,  and  looked  at  Sir 
John  Hawkwood's  painted  effigy,  and  at  several  busts 
and  statues,  and  at  the  windows  of  the  chapel  sur- 


1858.]  ITALY.  131 

rounding  the  dome,  through  which  the  sunshine 
glowed,  white  in  the  outer  air,  but  a  hundred-hued 
splendor  within.  I  tried  to  bring  up  the  scene  of 
Lorenzo  di  Medici's  attempted  assassination,  but  with 
no  great  success ;  and  after  listening  a  little  while  to 
the  chanting  of  the  priests  and  acolytes,  I  went  to  the 
Bank.  It  is  in  a  palace  of  which  Raphael  was  the 
architect,  in  the  Piazza  Gran  Duca. 

I  next  went,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  Uffizzi 
gallery,  and,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  Tribune,  where 
the  Venus  di  Medici  deigned  to  reveal  herself  rather 

more  satisfactorily  than  at  my  last  visit I 

looked  into  all  the  rooms,  bronzes,  drawings,  and 
gem-room ;  a  volume  might  easily  be  written  upon 
either  subject.  The  contents  of  the  gem-room  espe 
cially  require  to  be  looked  at  separately  in  order  to 
convince  one's  self  of  their  minute  magnificences  ;  for, 
among  so  many,  the  eye  slips  from  one  to  another 
with  only  a  vague  outward  sense  that  here  are  whole 
shelves  full  of  little  miracles,  both  of  nature's  material 
and  man's  workmanship.  Greater  [larger]  things  can 
be  reasonably  well  appreciated  with  a  less  scrupulous 
though  broader  attention;  but  in  order  to  estimate 
the  brilliancy  of  the  diamond  eyes  of  a  little  agate 
bust,  for  instance,  you  have  to  screw  your  mind  down 
to  them  and  nothing  else.  You  must  sharpen  your 
faculties  of  observation  to  a  point,  and  touch  the 
object  exactly  on  the  right  spot,  or  you  do  not  appre 
ciate  it  at  all.  It  is  a  troublesome  process  when  there 
are  a  thousand  such  objects  to  be  seen. 

I  stood  at  an  open  window  in  the  transverse  corn- 


132  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [.1858. 

dor,  and  looked  down  upon  the  Arno,  and  across  at 
the  range  of  edifices  that  impend  over  it  on  the 
opposite  side.  The  river,  I  should  judge,  may  be  a 
hundred  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide  in  its 
course  between  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie  and  the  Ponte 
Vecchio ;  that  is,  the  width  between  strand  and 
strand  is  at  least  so  much.  The  river,  however,  leaves 
a  broad  margin  of  mud  and  gravel  on  its  right  bank, 
on  which  water-weeds  grow  pretty  abundantly,  and 
creep  even  into  the  stream.  On  my  first  arrival  in 
Florence  I  thought  the  goose-pond  green  of  the  water 
rather  agreeable  than  otherwise ;  but  its  hue  is  now 
that  of  unadulterated  mud,  as  yellow  as  the  Tiber 
itself,  yet  not  impressing  me  as  being  enriched  with 
city  sewerage  like  that  other  famous  river.  From  the 
Ponte  alle  Grazie  downward,  half-way  towards  the 
Ponte  Vecchio,  there  is  an  island  of  gravel,  and  the 
channel  on  each  side  is  so  shallow  as  to  allow  the  passage 
of  men  and  horses,  wading  not  overleg.  I  have  seen 
fishermen  wading  the  main  channel  from  side  to  side, 
their  feet  sinking  into  the  dark  mud,  and  thus  dis 
coloring  the  yellow  water  with  a  black  track  visible, 
step  by  step,  through  its  shallowness.  But  still  the 
Arno  is  a  mountain  stream,  and  liable  to  be  tetchy 
and  turbulent  like  all  its  kindred,  and  no  doubt  it 
often  finds  its  borders  of  hewn  stone  not  too  far  apart 
for  its  convenience. 

Along  the  right  shore,  beneath  the  Uffizzi  and  the 
adjacent  buildings,  there  is  a  broad  paved  way,  with 
a  parapet ;  on  the  opposite  shore  the  edifices  are 
directly  upon  the  river's  edge,  and  impend  over 


1858.]  ITALY.  133 

the  water,  supported  upon  arches  and  machicolations, 
as  I  think  that  peculiar  arrangement  of  buttressing 
arcades  is  called.  The  houses  are  picturesquely  vari 
ous  in  height,  from  two  or  three  stories  to  seven ; 
picturesque  in  hue  likewise,  —  pea-green,  yellow,  white, 
and  of  aged  discoloration,  —  but  all  with  green  blinds  ; 
picturesque  also  in  the  courts  and  galleries  that  look 
upon  the  river,  and  in  the  wide  arches  that  open 
beneath,  intended,  perhaps  to  afford  a  haven  for  the 
household  boat.  Nets  were  suspended  before  one  or 
two  of  the  houses,  as  if  the  inhabitants  were  in  the 
habit  of  fishing  out  of  window.  As  a  general  effect, 
the  houses,  though  often  palatial  in  size  and  height, 
have  a  shabby,  neglected  aspect,  and  are  jumbled 
too  closely  together.  Behind  their  range  the  city 
swells  upward  in  a  hillside,  which  rises  to  a  great 
height  above,  forming,  I  believe,  a  part  of  the  Boboli 
Gardens. 

I  returned  homewards  over  the  Ponte  Vecchio, 
which  is  a  continuous  street  of  ancient  houses,  except 
over  the  central  arch,  so  that  a  stranger  might  easily 
cross  the  river  without  knowing  it.  In  these  small, 
old  houses  there  is  a  community  of  goldsmiths,  who 
set  out  their  glass  cases,  and  hang  their  windows  with 
rings,  bracelets,  necklaces,  strings  of  pearl,  ornaments 
of  malachite  and  coral,  and  especially  with  Florentine 
mosaics ;  watches,  too,  and  snuff-boxes  of  old  fashion 
or  new ;  offerings  for  shrines  also,  such  as  silver 
hearts  pierced  with  swords ;  an  infinity  of  pretty 
things,  the  manufacture  Jof  which  is  continually  going 
on  in  the  little  back-room  of  each  little  shop.  This 


134  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1868. 

gewgaw  business  has  been  established  on  the  Ponte 
Vecchio  for  centuries,  although,  long  since,  it  was  an 
art  of  far  higher  pretensions  than  now.  Benvenuto 
Cellini  had  his  workshop  here,  probably  in  one  of 
these  self-same  little  nooks.  It  would  have  been  a 
ticklish  affair  to  be  Benvenuto's  fellow-workman  with 
in  such  narrow  limits. 

Going  out  of  the  Porta  Romana,  I  walked  for  some 
distance  along  the  city  wall,  and  then,  turning  to  the 
left,  toiled  up  the  hill  of  Bellosguardo,  through  narrow 
zigzag  lanes  between  high  walls  of  stone  or  plastered 
brick,  where  the  sun  had  the  fairest  chance  to  frizzle 
me.  There  were  scattered  villas  and  houses,  here 
and  there  concentrating  into  a  little  bit  of  a  street, 
paved  with  flagstones  from  side  to  side,  as  in  the  city, 
and  shadowed  quite  across  its  narrowness  by  the 
height  of  the  houses.  Mostly,  however,  the  way  was 
inhospitably  sunny,  and  shut  out  by  the  high  wall 
from  every  glimpse  of  a  view,  except  in  one  spot, 
where  Florence  spread  itself  before  my  eyes,  with 
every  tower,  dome,  and  spire  which  it  contains.  A 
little  way  farther  on  my  own  gray  tower  rose  before 
me,  the  most  welcome  object  that  I  had  seen  in  the 
course  of  the  day. 

September  Wth.  —  I  went  into  town  again  yesterday, 
by  way  of  the  Porta  San  Frediano,  and  observed  that 
this  gate  (like  the  other  gates  of  Florence,  as  far  as  I 
have  observed)  is  a  tall,  square  structure  of  stone  or 
brick,  or  both,  rising  high  above  the  adjacent  wall, 
and  having  a  range  of  open  loggie  in  the  upper  story. 
The  arch  externally  is  about  half  the  height  of  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  135 

structure.  Inside,  towards  the  town,  it  rises  nearly 
to  the  roof.  On  each  side  of  the  arch  there  is  much 
room  for  offices,  apartments,  storehouses,  or  whatever 
else.  On  the  outside  of  the  gate,  along  the  base,  are 
those  iron  rings  and  sockets  for  torches,  which  are 
said  to  be  the  distinguishing  symbol  of  illustrious 
houses.  As  contrasted  with  the  vista  of  the  narrow, 
swarming  street  through  the  arch  from  without,  the 
view  from  the  inside  might  be  presented  with  a 
glimpse  of  the  free  blue  sky. 

I  strolled  a  little  about  Florence,  and  went  into  two 
or  three  churches ;  into  that  of  the  Annunziata  for 
one.  I  have  already  described  this  church,  with  its 
general  magnificence,  and  it  was  more  magnificent 
than  ever  to-day,  being  hung  with  scarlet  silk  and 
gold-embroidery.  A  great  many  people  were  at  their 
devotions,  thronging  principally  around  the  Virgin's 
shrine.  I  was  struck  now  with  the  many  bas-reliefs 
and  busts  in  the  costume  of  their  respective  ages,  and 
seemingly  with  great  accuracy  of  portraiture,  in  the 
passage  leading  from  the  front  of  the  church  into  the 
cloisters.  The  marble  was  not  at  all  abashed  nor  de 
graded  by  being  made  to  assume  the  guise  of  the 
mediaeval  furred  robe,  or  the  close-fitting  tunic  with 
elaborate  ruff,  or  the  breastplate  and  gorget,  or  the 
flowing  wig,  or  whatever  the  actual  costume  might  be  ; 
and  one  is  sensible  of  a  rectitude  and  reality  in  the 
affair,  and  respects  the  dead  people  for  not  putting 
themselves  into  an  eternal  masquerade.  The  dress  of 
the  present  day  will  look  equally  respectable  in  ono 
or  two  hundred  years. 


136  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

The  Fair  is  still  going  on,  and  one  of  its  principal 
centres  is  before  this  church,  in  the  Piazza  of  the 
Annunziata.  Cloth  is  the  chief  commodity  offered 
for  sale,  and  none  of  the  finest ;  coarse,  unbleached 
linen  and  cotton  prints  for  country-people's  wear,  to 
gether  with  yarn,  stockings,  and  here  and  there  an 
assortment  of  bright-colored  ribbons.  Playthings,  of 
a  Tory  rude  fashion,  were  also  displayed ;  likewise 
books  in  Italian  and  French  ;  and  a  great  deal  of 
ironwork.  Both  here  and  in  Rome  they  have  this  odd 
custom  of  offering  rusty  iron  implements  for  sale, 
spread  out  on  the  pavements.  There  was  a  good  deal 
of  tinware,  too,  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  especially 
around  the  pedestal  of  the  bronze  statue  of  Duke  Fer 
dinand,  who  curbs  his  horse  and  looks  down  upon  the 
bustling  piazza  in  a  very  stately  way The  peo 
ple  attending  the  fair  had  mostly  a  rustic  appearance  ; 
sunburnt  faces,  thin  frames  ;  no  beauty,  no  bloom,  no 
joyousness  of  young  or  old ;  an  anxious  aspect,  as  if 
life  were  no  easy  or  holiday  matter  with  them ;  but  I 
should  take  them  to  be  of  a  kindly  nature,  and  reason 
ably  honest.  Except  the  broad-brimmed  Tuscan  hats 
of  the  women,  there  was  no  peculiarity  of  costume. 
At  a  careless  glance  I  could  very  well  have  mis 
taken  most  of  the  men  for  Yankees  ;  as  for  the  wo 
men,  there  is  very  little  resemblance  between  them 
and  ours,  —  the  old  being  absolutely  hideous,  and  the 
young  ones  very  seldom  pretty.  It  was  a  very  dull 
crowd.  They  do  not  generate  any  warmth  among 
themselves  by  contiguity  ;  they  have  no  pervading 
sentiment,  such  as  is  continually  breaking  out  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  13? 

rough  merriment  from  an  American  crowd  ;  they  have 
nothing  to  do  with  one  another ;  they  are  not  a  crowd, 
considered  as  one  mass,  but  a  collection  of  individuals. 
A  despotic  government  has  perhaps  destroyed  their 
principle  of  cohesion,  and  crumbled  them  to  atoms. 
Italian  crowds  are  noted  for  their  civility  ;  possibly 
they  deserve  credit  for  native  courtesy  and  gentleness ; 
possibly,  on  the  other  hand,  the  crowd  has  not 
spirit  and  self-consciousness  enough  to  be  rampant.  I 
wonder  whether  they  will  ever  hold  another  parlia 
ment  in  the  Piazza  of  Santa  Croce  ! 

I  paid  a  visit  to  the  gallery  of  the  Pitti  Palace. 
There  is  too  large  an  intermixture  of  Andrea  del 
Sarto's  pictures  in  this  gallery ;  everywhere  you  see 
them,  cold,  proper,  and  uncriticisable,  looking  so  much 
like  first-rate  excellence,  that  you  inevitably  quarrel 
with  your  own  taste  for  not  admiring  them 

It  was  one  of  the  days  -when  my  mind  misgives 
me  whether  the  pictorial  art  be  not  a  humbug,  and 
when  the  minute  accuracy  of  a  fly  in  a  Dutch  picture 
of  fruit  and  flowers  seem£  to  me  something  more 
reliable  than  the  master-touches  of  Raphael.  The 
gallery  was  considerably  thronged,  and  many  of  the 
visitors  appeared  to  be  from  the  country,  and  of  a 
class  intermediate  between  gentility  and  labor.  Is 
there  such  a  rural  class  in  Italy  1  I  saw  a  respect 
able-looking  man  feeling  awkward  and  uncomfortable 
in  a  new  and  glossy  pair  of  pantaloons  not  yet  bent 
and  creased  to  his  natural  movement. 

Nothing  pleased  me  better  to-day  than  some  amber 
cups,  in  one  of  the  cabinets  of  curiosities.  They  are 


138  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

richly  wrought,  and  the  material  is  as  if  the  artist 
had  compressed  a  great  deal  of  sunshine  together, 
and  when  sufficiently  solidified  had  moulded  these  cups 
out  of  it  and  let  them  harden.  This  simile  was  sug 
gested  by . 

Leaving  the  palace,  I  entered  the  Boboli  Gardens, 
and  wandered  up  and  down  a  good  deal  of  its  uneven 
surface,  through  broad,  well-kept  edges*  of  box,  sprout 
ing  loftily,  trimmed  smoothly,  and  strewn  between 
with  cleanly  gravel ;  skirting  along  plantations  of 
aged  trees,  throwing  a  deep  shadow  within  their 
precincts;  passing  many  statues,  not  of  the  finest 
art,  yet  approaching  so  near  it,  as  to  serve  just  as 
good  a  purpose  for  garden  ornament ;  coming  now  and 
then  to  the  borders  of  a  fish-pool,  or  a  pond,  where 
stately  swans  circumnavigated  an  island  of  flowers  ;  — • 
all  very  fine  and  very  wearisome.  I  have  never 
enjoyed  this  garden ;  perhaps  because  it  suggests 
dress-coats,  and  such  elegant  formalities. 

September  \\th.  —  We  have  heard  a  good  deal  of 
spirit  matters  of  late,  especially  of  wonderful  incidents 
that  attended  Mr.  Hume's  visit  to  Florence,  two  or 
three  years  ago.  Mrs.  Powers  told  a  very  marvellous 
thing;  how  that  when  Mr.  Hume  was  holding  a 
seance  in  her  house,  and  several  persons  present,  a 
great  scratching  was  heard  in  a  neighboring  closet. 
She  addressed  the  spirit,  and  requested  it  not  to 
disturb  the  company  then,  as  they  were  busy  with 
ether  affairs,  promising  to  converse  with  it  on  a  future 
occasion.  On  a  subsequent  night,  accordingly,  the 
Scratching  was  renewed,  with  the  utmost  violence ; 


1858.]  ITALf.  139 

and  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Powers's  questions,  the  spirit 
assured  her  that  it  was  not  one,  but  legion,  being  the 
ghosts  of  twenty-seven  monks,  who  were  miserable 
and  without  hope !  The  house  now  occupied  by 
Powers  was  formerly  a  convent,  and  I  suppose  these 
were  the  spirits  of  all  the  wicked  monks  that  had 
«ver  inhabited  it ;  at  least,  I  hope  that  there  were 
not  such  a  number  of  damnable  sinners  extant  at  any 
one  time.  These  ghostly  fathers  must  have  been  very 
improper  persons  in  their  lifetime,  judging  by  the 
indecorousness  of  their  behavior  even  after  death,  and 
in  such  dreadful  circumstances  ;  for  they  pulled  Mrs. 

Powers's  skirts  so  hard  as  to  break  the  gathers 

It  was  not  ascertained  that  they  desired  to  have  any 
thing  done  for  their  eternal  welfare,  or  that  their 
situation  was  capable  of  amendment  anyhow ;  but, 
being  exhorted  to  refrain  from  further  disturbance, 
they  took  their  departure,  after  making  the  sign  of 
the  cross  on  the  breast  of  each  person  present.  This 
was  very  singular  in  such  reprobates,  who,  by  their 
own  confession,  had  forfeited  all  claim  to  be  benefited 
by  that  holy  symbol  :  it  curiously  suggests  that  the 
forms  of  religion  may  still  be  kept  up  in  purgatory 
and  hell  itself.  The  sign  was  made  in  a  way  that 
conveyed  the  sense  of  something  devilish  and  spiteful ; 
the  perpendicular  line  of  the  cross  being  drawn  gently 
enough,  but  the  transverse  one  sharply  and  violently, 
so  as  to  leave  a  painful  impression.  Perhaps  the 
monks  meant  this  to  express  their  contempt  and 
hatred  for  heretics ;  and  how  queer,  that  this  an 
tipathy  should  survive  their  own  damnation  !  But  I 


140  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185& 

cannot  help  hoping  that  the  case  of  these  poor  devils 
may  not  be  so  desperate  as  they  think.  They  cannot 
be  wholly  lost,  because  their  desire  for  communica 
tion  with  mortals  shows  that  they  need  sympathy, 
therefore  are  not  altogether  hardened,  therefore,  with 
loving  treatment,  may  be  restored. 

A  great  many  other  wonders  took  place  within  the 
knowledge  and  experience  of  Mrs.  P — = — .  She  saw, 
not  one  pair  of  hands  only,  but  many.  The  head  of 
one  of  her  dead  children,  a  little  boy,  was  laid  in 
her  lap,  not  in  ghastly  fashion,  as  a  head  out  of  the 
coffin  and  the  grave,  but  just  as  the  living  child 
might  have  laid  it  on  his  mother's  knees.  It  was 
invisible,  by  the  by,  and  she  recognized  it  by  the 
features  and  the  character  of  the  hair,  through  the  sense 
of  touch.  Little  hands  grasped  hers.  In  short,  these 
soberly  attested  incredibilities  are  so  numerous  that 
I  forget  nine  tenths  of  them,  and  judge  the  others 
too  cheap  to  be  written  down.  Christ  spoke  the 
truth  surely,  in  saying  that  men  would  not  believe, 
"  though  one  rose  from  the  dead."  In  my  own  case, 
the  fact  makes  absolutely  no  impression.  I  regret 
such  confirmation  of  truth  as  this. 

Within  a  mile  of  our  villa  stands  the  Villa  Colum 
baria,  a  large  house,  built  round  a  square  court. 
Like  Mr.  Powcrs's  residence,  it  was  formerly  a  convent. 
It  is  inhabited  by  Major  Gregorie,  an  old  soldier  of 
Waterloo  and  various  other  fights,  and  his  family 

consists  of  Mrs.  ,  the  widow  of  one  of  the  major's 

friends,  and  her  two  daughters.  We  have  become 
acquainted  with  the  family,  and  Mrs. ,  the  mar- 


1858.]  ITALY.  141 

ried  daughter,  has  lent  us  a  written  statement  of  her 
experiences  with  a  ghost,  who  has  haunted  the  Villa 
Columbaria  for  many  years  back.  He  had  made  Mrs. 

aware  of  his  presence  in  her  room  by  a  sensation 

of  extreme  cold,  as  if  a  wintry  breeze  were  blowing 
over  her ;  also  by  a  rustling  of  the  bed-curtains ;  and, 
at  such  times,  she  had  a  certain  consciousness,  as  she 
says,  that  she  was  not  ALOXE.  Through  Mr.  Hume's 
agency,  the  ghost  was  enabled  to  explain  himself,  and 
declared  that  he  was  a  monk,  named  Giannana,  who 
died  a  very  long  time  ago  in  Mrs.  's  present  bed 
chamber.  He  was  a  murderer,  and  had  been  hi  a  rest 
less  and  miserable  state  ever  since  his  death,  wander 
ing  up  and  down  the  house,  but  especially  haunting 
his  own  death-chamber  and  a  staircase  that  communi 
cated  with  the  chapel  of  the  villa.  All  the  interviews 
with  this  lost  spirit  were  attended  with  a  sensation  of 
severe  cold,  which  was  felt  by  every  one  present.  He 
made  his  communications  by  means  of  table-rapping, 
and  by  the  movements  of  chairs  and  other  articles, 
which  often  assumed  an  angry  character.  The  poor 
old  fellow  does  not  seem  to  have  known  exactly  what 

he  wanted  with   Mrs. ,  but  promised  -to  refrain 

from  disturbing  her  any  more,  on  condition  that  she 
would  pray  that  he  might  find  some  repose.  He  had 
previously  declined  having  any  masses  said  for  his 
soul.  Kest,  rest,  rest,  appears  to  be  the  continual 
craving  of  unhappy  spirits  ;  they  do  not  venture  to 
ask  for  positive  bliss  :  perhaps,  in  their  utter  weari 
ness,  would  rather  forego  the  trouble  of  active  enjoy 
ment,  but  pray  only  for  rest.  The  cold  atmosphere 


142  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

around  this  monk  suggests  new  ideas  as  to  the  climate 
of  Hades.  If  all  the  aforementioned  twenty-seven 
monks  had  a  similar  one,  the  combined  temperature 
must  have  been  that  of  a  polar  winter. 

ftfrs-  saWj  at  one  time,  the  fingers  of  her  monk, 

long,  yellow,  and  skinny ;  these  fingers  grasped  the 
hands  of  individuals  of  the  party,  with  a  cold,  clammy, 
and  horrible  touch. 

After  the  departure  of  this  ghost  other  seances. were 
held  in  her  bedchamber,  at  which  good  and  holy 
spirits  manifested  themselves,  and  behaved  in  a  very 
comfortable  and  encouraging  way.  It  was  their  be 
nevolent  purpose,  apparently,  to  purify  her  apartments 
from  all  traces  of  the  evil  spirit,  and  to  reconcile  her 
to  what  had  been  so  long  the  haunt  of  this  miserable 
monk,  by  filling  it  with  happy  and  sacred  associations, 
in  which,  as  Mrs.  •  intimates,  they  entirely  suc 
ceeded. 

These  stories  remind  me  of  an  incident  that  took 
place  at  the  old  manse,  in  the  first  summer  of  our 
marriage 

September  1 1th.  —  We  walked  yesterday  to  Florence, 
and  visited  the  Church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  where  we  saw, 
for  the  second  time,  the  famous  Medici  statues  of 
Michael  Angelo.  I  found  myself  not  in  a  very  appre 
ciative  state,  and,  being  a  stone  myself,  the  statue  of 
Lorenzo  was  at  first  little  more  to  me  than  another 
stone  ;  but  it  was  beginning  to  assume  life,  and  would 
have  impressed  me  as  it  did  before  if  I  had  gazed  long 
enough.  There  was  a  better  light  upon  the  face,  un 
der  the  helmet,  than  at  my  former  visit,  although 


1858.]  ITALY.  143 

still  the  features  were  enough  overshadowed  to  pro 
duce  that  mystery  on  which,  according  to  Mr.  Powers, 
the  effect  of  the  statue  depends.  I  observe  that  the 
costume  of  the  figure,  instead  of  being  mediaeval,  as  I 
believe  I  have  stated,  is  Roman  ;  but,  be  it  what  it 
may,  the  grand  and  simple  character  of  the  figure 
imbues  the  robes  with  its  individual  propriety.  I 
still  think  it  the  greatest  miracle  ever  wrought  in 
marble. 

We  crossed  the  church  and  entered  a  cloister  on 
the  opposite  side,  in  quest  of  the  Laurentian  Library. 
Ascending  a  staircase  we  found  an  old  man  blowing 
the  bellows  of  the  organ,  which  was  in  full  blast  in 
the  church ;  nevertheless  he  found  time  to  direct  us 
to  the  library  door.  We  entered  a  lofty  vestibule,  of 
ancient  aspect  and  stately  architecture,  and  thence 
were  admitted  into  the  library  itself;  a  long  and  wide 
gallery  or  hall,  lighted  by  a  row  of  windows  on  which 
were  painted  the  arms  of  the  Medici.  The  ceiling 
was  inlaid  with  dark  wood,  in  an  elaborate  pattern, 
which  was  exactly  repeated  in  terra-cotta  on  the  pave 
ment  beneath  our  feet.  Long  desks,  much  like  the 
old-fashioned  ones  in  schools,  were  ranged  on  each 
side  of  the  mid  aisle,  in  a  series  from  end  to  end,  with 
seats  for  the  convenience  of  students ;  and  on  these 
desks  were  rare  manuscripts,  carefully  preserved  under 
glass  ;  and  books,  fastened  to  the  desks  by  iron  chains, 
as  the  custom  of  studious  antiquity  used  to  be.  Along 
the  centre  of  the  hall,  between  the  two  ranges  of 
desks,  were  tables  and  chairs,  at  which  two  or  three 
scholarly  persons  were  seated,  diligently  consulting 


144  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        []85& 

volumes  in  manuscript  or  old  type.  It  was  a  very 
quiet  place,  imbued  with  a  cloistered  sanctity,  and 
remote  from  all  street-cries  and  rumble  of  the  city,  — 
odorous  of  old  literature,  —  a  spot  where  the  common 
est  ideas  ought  not  to  be  expressed  in  less  than  Latin. 
The  librarian — or  custode  he  ought  rather  to  be 
termed,  for  he  was  a  man  not  above  the  fee  of  a  paul 
—  now  presented  himself,  and  showed  us  some  of  the 
literary  curiosities ;  a  vellum  manuscript  of  the  Bible, 
with  a  splendid  illumination  by  Ghirlandaio,  covering 
two  folio  pages,  and  just  as  brilliant  in  its  color  as 
if  finished  yesterday.  Other  illuminated  manuscripts 
—  or  at  least  separate  pages  of  them,  for  the  volumes 
were  kept  under  glass,  and  not  to  be  turned  over  — 
were  shown  us,  very  magnificent,  but  not  to  be  com 
pared  with  this  of  Ghirlandaio.  Looking  at  such 
treasures  I  could  almost  say  that  we  have  left  behind 
us  more  splendor  than  we  have  kept  alike  to  our  own 
age.  We  publish  beautiful  editions  of  books,  to  bo 
sure,  and  thousands  of  people  enjoy  them;  but  in 
ancient  times  the  expense  that  we  spread  thinly  over 
a  thousand  volumes  was  all  compressed  into  one,  and 
it  became  a  great  jewel  of  a  book,  a  heavy  folio, 
worth  its  weight  in  gold.  Then,  what  a  spiritual 
charm  it  gives  to  a  book  to  feel  that  every  letter  has 
been  individually  wrought,  and  the  pictures  glow  for 
that  individual  page  alone !  Certainly  the  ancient 
reader  had  a  luxury  which  the  modern  one  lacks.  I 
was  surprised,  moreover,  to  see  the  clearness  and 
accuracy  of  the  chirography.  Print  does  not  surpass 
it  in  these  respects. 


1858.]  ITALY.  145 

The  custode  showed  us  an  ancient  manuscript  of 
the  Decameron  ;  likewise,  a  volume  containing  the 
portraits  of  Petrarch  and  of  Laura,  each  covering  the 
whole  of  a  vellum  page,  and  very  finely  done.  They 
are  authentic  portraits,  no  doubt,  and  Laura  is  de 
picted  as  a  fair-haired  beauty,  with  a  very  satisfactory 
amount  of  loveliness.  We  saw  some  choice  old  editions 
of  books  in  a  small  separate  room ;  but  as  these  were 
all  ranged  in  shut  bookcases,  and  as  each  volume, 
moreover,  was  in  a  separate  cover  or  modern  binding, 
this  exhibition  did  us  very  little  good.  By  the  by, 
there  is  a  conceit  struggling  blindly  in  my  mind 
about  Petrarch  and  Laura,  suggested  by  those  two 
lifelike  portraits,  which  have  been  sleeping  cheek  to 
cheek  through  all  these  centuries.  But  I  cannot  lay 
hold  of  it. 

September  2lst.  — Yesterday  morning  the  Val  d'Arno 
was  entirely  filled  with  a  thick  fog,  which  extended 
even  up  to  our  windows,  and  concealed  objects  within 
a  very  short  distance.  It  began  to  dissipate  itself 
betimes,  however,  and  was  the  forerunner  of  an 
unusually  bright  and  warm  day.  We  set  out  after 
breakfast  and  walked  into  town,  where  we  looked  at 
mosaic  brooches.  These  are  very  pretty  little  bits  of 
manufacture  ;  but  there  seems  to  have  been  no  in 
fusion  of  fresh  fancy  into  the  work,  and  the  specimens 
present  little  variety.  It  is  the  characteristic  com 
modity  of  the  place ;  the  central  mart  and  manu 
facturing  locality  being  09  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  from 
end  to  end  of  which  they  are  displayed  in  cases ;  but 
there  are  other  mosaic  shops  scattered  about  the 

VOL.  II.  7  J 


H6  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

town.  The  principal  devices  are  roses,  — pink,  yellow, 
or  white,  — jasmines,  lilies  of  the  valley,  forget-me-nots, 
orange  blossoms,  and  others,  single  or  in  sprigs,  or 
twined  into  wreaths ;  parrots,  too,  and  other  birds 
of  gay  plumage,  —  often  exquisitely  done,  and  some 
times  with  precious  materials,  such  as  lapis  lazuli, 
malachite,  and  still  rarer  gems.  Bracelets,  with  several 
different,  yet  relative  designs,  are  often  very  beautiful. 
We  find,  at  different  shops,  a  great  inequality  of  prices 
for  mosaics  that  seemed  to  be  of  much  the  same 
quality. 

We  went  to  the  Uffizzi  gallery,  and  found  it  much 
thronged  with  the  middle  and  lower  classes  of  Ital 
ians  ;  and  the  English,  too,  seemed  more  numerous 
than  I  have  lately  seen  them.  Perhaps  the  tourists 
have  just  arrived  here,  starting  at  the  close  of  the 
London  season.  We  were  amused  with  a  pair  of 
Englishmen  who  went  through  the  gallery;  one  of 
them  criticising  the  pictures  and  statues  audibly,  for 
the  benefit  of  his  companion.  The  critic  I  should 
take  to  be  a  country  squire,  and  wholly  untravelled ; 
a  tall,  well-built,  rather  rough,  but  gentlemanly  man 
enough ;  his  friend,  a  small  personage,  exquisitely 
neat  in  dress,  and  of  artificial  deportment,  every 
attitude  and  gesture  appearing  to  have  been  practised 
before  a  glass.  Being  but  a  small  pattern  of  a  man, 
physically  and  intellectually,  he  had  thought  it  worth 
while  to  finish  himself  off  with  the  elaborateness  of  a 
Florentine  mosaic ;  and  the  result  was  something 
like  a  dancing-master,  though  without  the  exuberant 
embroidery  of  such  persons.  Indeed,  he  was  a  very 


1858.]  ITALY.  ^  147 

quiet  little  man,  and,  though  so  thoroughly  made  up, 
there  was  something  particularly  green,  fresh,  and 
simple  in  him.  Both  these  Englishmen  were  elderly, 
and  the  smaller  one  had  perfectly  white  hair,  glossy 
and  silken.  It  did  not  make  him  in  the  least  vener 
able,  however,  but  took  his  own  character  of  neatness 
and  prettiness.  He  carried  his  well-brushed  and 
glossy  hat  in  his  hand  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  ruffle 
its  surface ;  and  I  wish  I  could  put  into  one  word  or 
one  sentence  the  pettiness,  the  minikin-finical  effect 
of  this  little  man  ;  his  self-consciousness  so  lifelong, 
that,  in  some  sort,  he  forgot  himself  even  in  the  midst 
of  it ;  his  propriety,  his  cleanliness  and  unruffledness ; 
his  prettiness  and  nicety  of  manifestation,  like  a  bird 
hopping  daintily  about. 

His  companion,  as  I  said,  was  of  a  completely 
different  type ;  a  tall,  gray-haired  man,  with  the 
rough  English  face,  a  little  tinted  with  port  wine; 
careless,  natural  manner,  betokening  a  man  of  posi 
tion  in  his  own  neighborhood ;  a  loud  voice,  not  vul 
gar,  nor  outraging  the  rules  of  society,  but  betraying 
a  character  incapable  of  much  refinement.  He  talked 
continually  in  his  progress  through  the  gallery,  and 
audibly  enough  for  us  to  catch  almost  everything  he 
said,  at  many  yards'  distance.  His  remarks  and  criti 
cisms,  addressed  to  his  small  friend,  were  so  entertain 
ing,  that  we  strolled  behind  him  for  the  sake  of  being 
benefited  by  them ;  and  I  think  he  soon  became 
aware  of  this,  and  addressed  himself  to  us  as  well  as 
to  his  more  immediate  friend.  Nobody  but  an  Eng 
lishman,  it  seems  to  me,  has  just  this  kind  of  vanity,  — 


H8  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

a  feeling  mixed  up  with  scorn  and  good-nature  ;  self- 
cornplacency  on  his  own  merits,  and  as  an  English 
man  ;  pride  at  being  in  foreign  parts ;  contempt  for 
everybody  around  him ;  a  rough  kindliness  towards 
people  in  general.  I  liked  the  man,  and  should  bo 
glad  to  know  him  better.  As  for  his  criticism,  I  am 
sorry  to  remember  only  one.  It  was  upon  the  pic 
ture  of  the  Nativity,  by  Correggio,  in  the  Tribune, 
where  the  mother  is  kneeling  before  the  Child,  and 
adoring  it  in  an  awful  rapture,  because  she  sees  the 
eternal  God  in  its  baby  face  and  figure.  The  English 
man  was  highly  delighted  with  this  picture,  and  began 
to  gesticulate,  as  if  dandling  a  baby,  and  to  make  a 
chirruping  sound.  It  was  to  him  merely  a  represen 
tation  of  a  mother  fondling  her  infant.  He  then  said, 
"  If  I  could  have  my  choice  of  the  pictures  and  stat 
ues  in  the  Tribune,  I  would  take  this  picture,  and 
that  one  yonder  "  (it  was  a  good  enough  Enthronement 
of  the  Virgin  by  Andrea  del  Sarto)  "  and  the  Dancing 
Faun,  and  let  the  rest  go."  A  delightful  man  ;  I  love 
that  wholesome  coarseness  of  mind  and  heart,  which 
no  education  nor  opportunity  can  polish  out  of  the 
genuine  Englishman ;  a  coarseness  without  vulgarity. 
When  a  Yankee  is  coarse,  he  is  pretty  sure  to  be  vul 
gar  too. 

The  two  critics  seemed  to  be-  considering  whether 
it  were  practicable  to  go  from  the  Uffizzi  to  the  Pitti 
gallery;  but  "it  confuses  one,"  remarked  the  little 
man,  "to  see  more  than  one  gallery  in  a  day."  (I 
should  think  so,  —  the  Pitti  Palace  tumbling  into 
his  small  receptacle  on  the  top  of  the  Uffizzi.)  "  It 


1858.]  ITALY.  149 

does   so,"   responded   the   big   man,  with   heavy  em 
phasis. 

September  23d.  —  The  vintage  has  been  going  on  in 
our  podere  for  about  a  week,  and  I  saw  a  part  of  the 
process  of  making  wine,  under  one  of  our  back  win 
dows.  It  was  on  a  very  small  scale,  the  grapes  being 
thrown  into  a  barrel,  and  crushed  with  a  sort  of 
pestle  ;  and  as  each  estate  seems  to  make  its  own 
wine,  there  are  probably  no  very  extensive  and  elabo 
rate  appliances  in  general  use  for  the  manufacture. 
The  cider-making  of  New  England  is  far  more  pictur 
esque  ;  the  great  heap  of  golden  or  rosy  apples  under 
the  trees,  and  the  cider-mill  worked  by  a  circurngyra- 
tory  horse,  and  all  agush  with  sweet  juice.  Indeed, 
nothing  connected  with  the  grape-culture  and  the 
vintage  here  has  been  picturesque,  except  the  large 
inverted  pyramids  in  which  the  clusters  hang ;  those 
great  bunches,  white  or  purple,  really  satisfy  my  idea 
both  as  to  aspect  and  taste.  We  can  buy  a  large  bas 
ketful  for  less  than  a  paul ;  and  they  are  the  only 
things  that  one  can  never  devour  too  much  of — and 
there  is  no  enough  short  of  a  little  too  much  —  with 
out  subsequent  repentance.  It  is  a  shame  to  turn 
such  delicious  juice  into  such  sour  wine  as  they  make 
in  Tuscany.  I  tasted  a  sip  or  two  of  a  flask  which 
the  contadini  sent  us  for  trial,  —  the  rich  result  of  the 
process  I  had  witnessed  in  the  barrel.  It  took  me  al 
together  by  surprise  ;  for  I  remembered  the  nectare- 
ousness  of  the  new  cider,  which  I  used  to  sip  through 
a  straw  in  my  boyhood,  *and  I  never  doubted  that  this 
would  be  as  dulcet,  but  finer  and  more  ethereal ;  as 


150  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l858. 

much  more  delectable,  in  short,  as  these  grapes  are 
better  than  puckery  cider  apples.  Positively,  I  never 
tasted  anything  so  detestable,  such  a  sour  and  bitter 
juice,  still  lukewarm  -with  fermentation  :  it  was  a  wail 
of  woe,  squeezed  out  of  the  wine-press  of  tribulation, 
and  the  more  a  man  drinks  of  such,  the  sorrier  he  will 
be. 

Besides  grapes,  we  have  had  figs,  and  I  have  now- 
learned  to  be  very  fond  of  them.  When  they  first 
began  to  appear,  two  months  ago,  they  had  scarcely 
any  sweetness,  and  tasted  very  like  a  decaying  squash  : 
this  was  an  early  variety,  with  purple  skins.  There 
are  many  kinds  of  figs,  the  best  being  green-skinned, 
growing  yellower  as  they  ripen ;  and  the  riper  they 
are,  the  more  the  sweetness  within  them  intensifies, 
till  they  resemble  dried  figs  in  everything,  except  that 
they  retain  the  fresh  fruit-flavor;  rich,  luscious,  yet 
not  palling.  We  have  had  pears,  too,  some  of  them 
very  tolerable  ;  and  peaches,  which  look  magnificently, 
as  regards  size  and  downy  blush,  but  have  seldom 
much  more  taste  than  a  cucumber.  A  succession  of 
fruits  has  followed  us,  ever  since  our  arrival  in  Flor 
ence  .  —  first,  and  for  a  long  -time,  abundance  of 
cherries  ;  then  apricots,  which  lasted  many  weeks,  till 
we  were  weary  of  them  ;  then  plums,  pears,  and  finally 
figs,  peaches,  and  grapes.  Except  the  figs  and  grapes, 
a  New  England  summer  and  autumn  would  give  us 
better  fruit  than  any  we  have  found  in  Italy. 

Italy  beats  us,  I  think,  in  mosquitoes ;  they  are 
horribly  pungent  little  satanic  particles.  They  pos 
sess  strange  intelligence,  and  exquisite  acuteness  of 


1858.]  ITALY.  151 

sight  and  smell,  —  prodigious  audacity  and  courage  to 
match  it,  insomuch  that  they  venture  on  the  most 
hazardous  attacks,  and  get  safe  off.  One  of  them  flew 
into  my  mouth,  the  other  night,  and  stung  me  far 
down  in  my  throat ;  but  luckily  I  coughed  him  up  in 
halves.  They  are  bigger  than  American  mosquitoes  ; 
and  if  you  crush  them,  after  one  of  their  feasts,  it 
makes  a  terrific  blood-spot.  It  is  a  sort  of  suicide  — 
at  least,  a  shedding  of  one's  own  blood  —  to  kill 
them  ;  but  it  gratifies  the  old  Adam  to  do  it.  It 
shocks  me  to  feel  how  revengeful  I  am ;  but  it  is 
impossible  not  to  impute  a  certain  malice  and  intel 
lectual  venom  to  these  diabolical  insects.  I  wonder 
whether  our  health,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  requires 
that  we  should  be  kept  in  a  state  of  irritation,  and 
so  the  mosquitoes  are  Nature's  prophetic  remedy  for 
some  disease ;  or  whether  we  are  made  for  the  mos 
quitoes,  not  they  for  us.  It  is  possible,  just  possible, 
that  the  infinitesimal  doses  of  poison  which  they 
infuse  into  us  are  a  homoeopathic  safeguard  against 
pestilence ;  but  medicine  never  was  administered  in  a 
more  disagreeable  way. 

The  moist  atmosphere  about  the  Arno,  I  suppose, 
produces  these  insects,  and  fills  the  broad,  ten-mile 
valley  with  them ;  and  as  we  are  just  on  the  brim  of 
the  basin,  they  overflow  into  our  windows. 

September  25th.  —  U and  I  walked  to  town  yes 
terday  morning,  and  went  to  the  Ufnzzi  gallery.  It 
is  not  a  pleasant  thought  that  we  are  so  soon  to  give 
up  this  gallery,  with  little  prospect  (none,  or  hardly 
any.  on  my  part)  of  ever  seeing  it  again.  It  interests 


152  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l&53. 

me  and  all  of  us  far  more  than  the  gallery  of  the 
Pitti  Palace,  wherefore  I  know  not,  for  the  latter  is 
the  richer  of  the  two  in  admirable  pictures.  Perhaps 
it  is  the  picturesque  variety  of  the  Uffizzi  —  the  com 
bination  of  painting,  sculpture,  gems,  and  bronzes  — 
that  makes  the  charm.  The  Tribune,  too,  is  the  richest 
room  in  all  the  world ;  a  heart  that  draws  all  hearts 
to  it.  The  Dutch  pictures,  moreover,  give  a  homely, 
human  interest  to  the  Uffizzi ;  and  I  really  think  that 
the  frequency  of  Andrea  del  Sarto's  productions  at  the 
Pitti  Palace  —  looking  so  very  like  masterpieces,  yet 
lacking  the  soul  of  art  and  nature  —  have  much  to  do 
with  the  weariness  that  comes  from  better  acquaintance 
with  the  latter  gallery.  The  splendor  of  the  gilded 
and  frescoed  saloons  is  perhaps  another  bore  ;  but, 
after  all,  my  memory  will  often  tread  there  as  long  as 
I  live.  What  shall  we  do  in  America  1 

Speaking  of  Dutch  pictures,  I  was  much  struck 
yesterday,  as  frequently  before,  with  a  small  picture 
by  Teniers  the  elder.  It  seems  to  be  a  pawnbroker 
in  the  midst  of  his  pledges  ;  old  earthen  jugs,  flasks, 
a  brass  kettle,  old  books,  and  a  huge  pile  of  worn-out 
and  broken  rubbish,  which  he  is  examining.  These 
things  are  represented  with  vast  fidelity,  yet  with 
bold  and  free  touches,  unlike  the  minute,  microscopic 
work  of  other  Dutch  masters ;  and  a  wonderful  pic- 
turesqueness  is  wrought  out  of  these  humble  materials, 
and  even  the  figure  and  head  of  the  pawnbroker  have 
a  strange  grandeur. 

We  spent  no  very  long  time  at  the"  Uffizzi,  and 
afterwards  crossed  the  Ponte  alle  Grazie,  and  went  to 


1858.]  ITALY.  153 

the  convent  of  San  Miniato,  which  stands  on  a  hill  out 
side  of  the  Porta  San  Gallo.  A  paved  pathway,  along 
which  stands  crosses  marking  stations  at  which  pil 
grims  are  to  kneel  and  pray,  goes  steeply  to  the  hill 
top,  where,  in  the  first  place,  is  a  smaller  church  and 
convent  than  those  of  San  Miniato.  The  latter  are 
seen  at  a  short  distance  to  the  right,  the  convent 
being  a  large,  square  battlemented  mass,  adjoining 
which  is  the  church,  showing  a  front  of  aged  white 
marble,  streaked  with  black,  and  having  an  old  stone 
tower  behind.  I  have  seen  no  other  convent  or 
monastery  that  so  well  corresponds  with  my  idea  of 
what  such  structures  were.  The  sacred  precincts  are 
enclosed  by  a  high  wall,  gray,  ancient,  and  luxu 
riously  ivy-grown,  and  lofty  and  strong  enough  for 
the  rampart  of  a  fortress.  We  went  through  the 
gateway  and  entered  the  church,  which  we  found  in 
much  disarray,  and  masons  at  w^ork  upon  the  pave 
ment.  The  tribune  is  elevated  considerably  above 
the  nave,  and  accessible  by  marble  staircases ;  there 
are  great  arches  and  a  chapel,  with  curious  monu 
ments  in  the  Gothic  style,  and  ancient  carvings  and 
mosaic  v/orks,  and,  in  short,  a  dim,  dusty,  and  vener 
able  interior,  well  worth  studying  in  detail 

The  view  of  Florence  from  the  church  door  is  very 
fine,  and  seems  to  include  every  tower,  dome,  or 
whatever  object  emerges  out  of  the  general  mass. 

September  28th.  —  I  went  to  the  Pitti  Palace  yester 
day,  and  to  the  Uffizzi  to-day,  paying  them  probably 
my  last  visit,  yet  cherishing  an  unreasonable  doubt 
whether  I  may  not  see  them  again.  At  all  events,  I 


154  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

have  seen  them  enough  for  the  present,  even  what  is 
best  of  them ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  sad 
reluctance  to  bid  them  farewell  forever,  I  experience 
an  utter  weariness  of  Raphael's  old  canvas,  and  of  the 
time-yellowed  marble  of  the  Venus  di  Medici.  When 
the  material  embodiment  presents  itself  outermost, 
and  we  perceive  them  only  by  the  grosser  sense,  miss 
ing  their  ethereal  spirit,  there  is  nothing  so  heavily 
burdensome  as  masterpieces  of  painting  and  sculpture. 
I  threw  my  farewell  glance  at  the  Venus  di  Medici  to 
day  with  strange  insensibility. 

The  nights  are  wonderfully  beautiful  now.  When 
the  moon  was  at  the  full,  a  few  nights  ago,  its  light 
was  an  absolute  glory,  such  as  I  seem  only  to  have 
dreamed  of  heretofore,  and  that  only  in  my  younger 
days.  At  its  rising  I  have  fancied  that  the  orb  of  the 
moon  has  a  kind  of  purple  brightness,  and  that  this 
tinge  is  communicated  to  its  radiance  until  it  has 
climbed  high  aloft  and  sheds  a  flood  of  white  over  hill 
and  valley.  Now  that  the  moon  is  on  the  wane,  there 
is  a  gentler  lustre,  but  still  bright ;  and  it  makes  the 
Val  d'  Arno  with  its  surrounding  hills,  and  its  soft 
mist  in  the  distance,  as  beautiful  a  scene  as  exists 
anywhere  out  of  heaven.  And  the  morning  is  quite 
as  beautiful  in  its  own  way.  This  mist,  of  which  I 
have  so  often  spoken,  sets  it  beyond  tho  limits  of 
actual  sense  and  makes  it  ideal ;  it  is  as  if  you  were 
dreaming  about  the  valley,  —  as  if  the  valley  itself 
were  dreaming,  and  met  you  half-way  in  your  own 
dream.  If  the  mist  were  to  be  withdrawn,  I  believe 
the  whole  beauty  of  the  valley  would  go  with  it. 


1858.]  ITALY.  155 

Until  pretty  late  in  the  morning  we  have  the  comet 
streaming  through  the  sky,  and  dragging  its  intermi 
nable  tail  among  the  stars.  It  keeps  brightening  from 
night  to  night,  and  I  should  think  must  blaze  fiercely 
enough  to  cast  a  shadow  by  and  by.  I  know  not 
whether  it  be  in  the  vicinity  of  Galileo's  tower,  and  in 
the  influence  of  his  spirit,  but  I  have  hardly  ever 
watched  the  stars  with  such  interest  as  now. 

September  29th.  —  Last  evening  I  met  Mr.  Powers 
at  Miss  Blagden's,  and  he  talked  about  his  treatment 
by  our  government  in  reference  to  an  appropriation 
of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  made  by  Congress  for 
a  statue  by  him.  Its  payment  and  the  purchase  of 
the  statue  were  left  at  the  option  of  the  President, 
and  he  conceived  himself  wronged  because  the  affair 

was  never  concluded As  for  the  President,  he 

knows  nothing  of  art,  and  probably  acted  in  the  mat 
ter  by  the  advice  of  the  director  of  public  works.  No 
doubt  a  sculptor  gets  commissions  as  everybody  gets 
public  employment  and  emolument  of  whatever  kind 
from  our  government,  not  by  merit  or  fitness,  but  by 
political  influence  skilfully  applied.  As  Powers  him 
self  observed,  the  ruins  of  our  Capitol  are  not  likely 
to  aiford  sculptures  equal  to  those  which  Lord  Elgin 
took  from  the  Parthenon,  if  this  be  the  system  under 

which  they  are  produced I  wish  our  great 

Republic  had  the  spirit  to  do  as  much,  according  to 
its  vast  means,  as  Florence  did  for  sculpture  and  archi 
tecture  when  it  was  a  republic ;  but  we  have  the 
meanest  government  and  the  shabbiest,  and  —  if 
truly  represented  by  it  —  we  are  the  meanest  and 


156  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l85a 

shabbiest  people  known  in  history.  And  yet  the  less 
we  attempt  to  do  for  art  the  better,  if  our  future  at 
tempts  are  to  have  no  better  result  than  such  brazen 
troopers  as  the  equestrian  statue  of  General  Jackson, 
or  even  such  naked  respectabilities  as  Greenough's 
Washington.  There  is  something  false  and  affected 
in  our  highest  taste  for  art ;  and  I  suppose,  further 
more,  we  are  the  only  people  who  seek  to  decorate 
their  public  institutions,  not  by  the  highest  taste 
among  them,  but  by  the  average  at  best. 

There  was  also  at  Miss  Blagden's,  among  other 
company,  Mr.  ,  an  artist  in  Florence,  and  a  sen 
sible  man.  I  talked  with  him  about  Hume,  the 
medium,  whom  he  had  many  opportunities  of  observ 
ing  when  the  latter  was  in  these  parts.  Mr.  

says  that  Hume  is  unquestionably  a  knave,  but  that 
he  himself  is  as  much  perplexed  at  his  own  preter 
natural  performances  as  any  other  person ;  he  is 
startled  and  affrighted  at  the  phenomena  which  he 
produces.  Nevertheless,  when  his  spiritual  powers 
fall  short,  he  does  his  best  to  eke  them  out  with  im 
posture.  This  moral  infirmity  is  a  part  of  his  nature, 
and  I  suggested  that  perhaps  if  he  were  of  a  firmer 
and  healthier  moral  make,  if  his  character  were  suf 
ficiently  sound  and  dense  to  be  capable  of  steadfast 
principle,  he  would  not  have  possessed  the  impressi 
bility  that  fits  him  for  the  so-called  spiritual  influences. 
Mr.  -  —  says  that  Louis  Napoleon  is  literally  one  of 
the  most  skilful  jugglers  in  the  world,  and  that  prob 
ably  the  interest  he  has  taken  in  Mr.  Hume  was  caused 
partly  by  a  wish  to  acquire  his  art. 


1858.]  ITALY.  157 

This  morning  Mr.  Powers  invited  me  to  go  with 
him  to  the  Grand  Duke's  new  foundry,  to  see  the 
bronze  statue  of  Webster  which  has  just  been  cast 
from  his  model.  It  is  the  second  cast  of  the  statue, 
the  first  having  been  shipped  some  months  ago  on 
board  of  a  vessel  which  was  lost;  and  as  Powers 
observed,  the  statue  now  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  tele 
graphic  cable. 

We  were  received  with  much  courtesy  and  em 
phasis  by  the  director  of  the  foundry,  and  conducted 
into  a  large  room  walled  with  bare,  new  brick,  where 
the  statue  was  standing  in  front  of  the  extinct  fur 
nace  :  a  majestic  Webster  indeed,  eight  feet  high, 
and  looking  even  more  colossal  than  that.  The  like 
ness  seemed  to  me  perfect,  and,  like  a  sensible  man, 
Powers  has  dressed  him  in  his  natural  costume,  such 
as  I  have  seen  Webster  have  on  while  making  a 
speech  in  the  open  air  at  a  mass  meeting  in  Concord, 
—  dress-coat  buttoned  pretty  closely  across  the  breast, 
pantaloons  and  boots,  —  everything  finished  even  to  a 
seam  and  a  stitch.  Not  an  inch  of  the  statue  but  is 
Webster;  even  his  coat-tails  are  imbued  with  the 
man,  and  this  true  artist  has  succeeded  in  showing 
him  through  the  broadcloth  as  nature  showed  him. 
He  has  felt  that  a  man's  actual  clothes  are  as  much 
a  part  of  him  as  his  flesh,  and  I  respect  him  for  dis 
daining  to  shirk  the  difficulty  by  throwing  the  mean 
ness  of  a  cloak  over  it,  and  for  recognizing  the  folly 
of  masquerading  our  Yankee  statesman  in  a  Roman 
toga,  and  the  indecorousness  of  presenting  him  as  a, 


158  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

brassy  nudity.  It  would  have  been  quite  as  unjusti 
fiable  to  strip  hirn  to  his  skeleton  as  to  his  flesh. 
Webster  is  represented  as  holding  in  his  right  hand 
the  written  roll  of  the  Constitution,  with  which  he 
points  to  a  bundle  of  fasces,  which  he  keeps  from, 
falling  by  the  grasp  of  his  left,  thus  symbolizing  him 
as  the  preserver  of  the  Union.  There  is  an  expression 
of  quiet,  solid,  massive  strength  in  the  whole  figure ; 
a  deep  pervading  energy,  in  which  any  exaggeration 
of  gesture  would  lessen  and  lower  the  effect.  He 
looks  really  like  a  pillar  of  the  state.  The  face  is 
very  grand,  very  Webster;  stern  and  awful,  because 
he  is  in  the  act  of  meeting  a  great  crisis,  and  yet  with 
the  warmth  of  a  great  heart  glowing  through  it. 
Happy  is  Webster  to  have  been  so  truly  and  ade 
quately  sculptured;  happy  the  sculptor  in  such  a 
subject,  which  no  idealization  of  a  demigod  could  have 
supplied  him  with.  Perhaps  the  statue  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  will  be  cast  up  in  some  future  age,  when 
the  present  race  of  man  is  forgotten,  nnd  if  so,  that 
far  posterity  will  look  up  to  us  as  a  grander  race  than 
we  find  ourselves  to  be.  Neither  was  Webster  alto 
gether  the  man  he  looked.  His  physique  helped  him 
out,  even  when  he  fell  somewhat  short  of  its  promise  ; 
and  if  his  eyes  had  not  been  in  such  deep  caverns 
their  fire  would  not  have  looked  so  bright. 

Powers  made  me  observe  how  the  surface  of  the 
statue  was  wrought  to  a  sort  of  roughness  instead  of 
being  smoothed,  as  is  the  practice  of  other  artists. 
He  said  that  this  had  cost  him  great  "pains,  and  cer 
tainly  it  has  an  excellent  effect.  The  statue  is  to  go 


1858.]  ITALY.  159 

to  Boston,  and  I  hope  will  be  placed  in  the  open  air, 
for  it  is  too  mighty  to  be  kept  under  any  roof  that 
now  exists  in  America 

After  seeing  this,  the  director  showed  us  some  very 
curious  and  exquisite  specimens  of  castings,  such  as 
baskets  of  flowers,  in  which  the  most  delicate  and 
fragile  blossoms,  the  curl  of  a  petal,  the  finest  veins 
in  a  leaf,  the  lightest  flower-spray  that  ever  quivered 
in  a  breeze,  were  perfectly  preserved ;  and  the  basket 
contained  an  abundant  heap  of  such  sprays.  There 
were  likewise  a  pair  of  hands,  taken  actually  from 
life,  clasped  together  as  they  were,  and  they  looked 
like  parts  of  a  man  who  had  been  changed  suddenly 
from  flesh  to  brass.  They  were  wTorn  and  rough 
and  unhandsome  hands,  and  so  very  real,  with  all 
their  veins  and  the  pores  of  the  skin,  that  it  was 
shocking  to  look  at  them.  A  bronze  leaf,  cast  also 
from  the  life,  was  as  curious  and  more  beautiful. 

Taking  leave  of  Powers,  I  went  hither  and  thither 
about  Florence,  seeing  for  the  last  time  things  that 
I  have  seen  many  times  before  :  the  market,  for  in 
stance,  blocking  up  a  line  of  narrow  streets  with  fruit- 
stalls,  and  obstreperous  dealers  crying  their  peaches, 
their  green  lemons,  their  figs,  their  delicious  grapes, 
their  mushrooms,  their  pomegranates,  their  radishes, 
their  lettuces.  They  use  one  vegetable  here  which 
I  have  not  known  so  used  elsewhere  ;  that  is,  very 
young  pumpkins  or  squashes,  of  the  size  of  apples, 
and  to  be  cooked  by  boiling.  They  are  not  to  my 
taste,  but  the  people  here  like  unripe  things,  • —  unripe 
fruit,  unripe  chickens,  unripe  lamb.  This  market  is  the 


160  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

noisiest  and  swarmiest  centre  of  noisy  and  swarming 
Florence,  and  I  always  like  to  pass  through  it  on  that 
account. 

I  went  also  to  Santa  Croce,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
to  present  a  longer  vista  and  broader  space  than 
almost  any  other  church,  perhaps  because  the  pillars 
between  the  nave  and  aisles  are  not  so  massive  as  to 
obstruct  the  view.  I  looked  into  the  Duomo,  too, 
and  was  pretty  well  content  to  leave  it.  Then  I 
came  homeward,  and  lost  my  way,  and  wandered  far 
off  through  the  white  sunshine,  and  the  scanty  shade 
of  the  vineyard  walls,  and  the  olive-trees  that  here 
and  there  branched  over  them.  At  last  I  saw  our 
own  gray  battlements  at  a  distance,  on  one  side,  quite 
out  of  the  direction  in  which  I  was  travelling,  so  was 
compelled  to  the  grievous  mortification  of  retracing  a 
great  many  of  my  weary  footsteps.  It  was  a  very  hot 
day.  This  evening  I  have  been  on  the  tower-top 
star-gazing,  and  looking  at  the  comet,  which  waves 
along  the  sky  like  an  immense  feather  of  flame.  Over 
Florence  there  was  an  illuminated  atmosphere,  caused 
by  the  lights  of  the  city  gleaming  upward  into  the 
mists  which  sleep  and  dream  above  that  portion  of 
the  valley,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  it.  I  saw  dimly,  or 
fancied  I  saw,  the  hill  of  Fiesole  on  the  other  side  of 
Florence,  and  remembered  how  ghostly  lights  were 
seen  passing  thence  to  the  Duomo  on  the  night  when 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  died.  From  time  to  time  the 
sweet  bells  of  Florence  rung  out,  and  I  was  loath  to 
come  down  into  the  lower  world,  knowing  that  I  shall 
never  again  look  heavenward  from  an  old  tower-top  in 


1858.]  ITALY.  161 

such  a  soft  calm  evening  as  this.  Yet  I  am  not  loath 
to  go  away ;  impatient  rather ;  for,  taking  no  root,  I 
soon  weary  of  any  soil  in  which  I  may  be  temporarily 
deposited.  The  same  impatience  I  sometimes  feel  or 
conceive  of  as  regards  this  earthly  life 

I  forgot  to  mention  that  Powers  showed  me,  in  his 
studio,  the  model  of  the  statue  of  America,  which  he 
wished  the  government  to  buy.  It  has  great  merit, 
and  embodies  the  ideal  of  youth,  freedom,  progress, 
and  whatever  we  consider  as  distinctive  of  our  coun 
try's  character  and  destiny.  It  is  a  female  figure, 
vigorous,  beautiful,  planting  its  foot  lightly  on  a 
broken  chain,  and  pointing  upward.  The  face  has  a 
high  look  of  intelligence  and  lofty  feeling ;  the  form, 
nude  to  the  middle,  has  all  the  charms  of  woman 
hood,  and  is  thus  warmed  and  redeemed  out  of  the* 
cold  allegoric  sisterhood  who  have  generally  no  merit 
in  chastity,  being  really  without  sex.  I  somewhat 
question  whether  it  is  quite  the  thing,  however,  to 
make  a  genuine  woman  out  of  an  allegory :  we  ask, 
Who  is  to  wed  this  lovely  virgin  1  and  we  are  not  sat 
isfied  to  banish  her  into  the  realm  of  chilly  thought. 
But  I  liked  the  statue,  and  all  the  better  for  what  I 
criticise,  and  was  sorry  to  see  the  huge  package  in 
which  the  finished  marble  lies  bundled  up,  ready  to 
be  sent  to  our  country,  —  which  does  not  call  for  it. 

Mr.  Powers  and  his  two  daughters  called  to  take 
leave  of  us,  and  at  parting  I  expressed  a  hope  of  seeing 
him  in  America.  He  said  that  it  would  make  him 
very  unhappy  to  believe  that  he  should  never  return 
thither ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  he  has  no  such 

K 


162  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

definite  purpose  of  return  as  would  be  certain  to  bring 
itself  to  pass.  It  makes  a  very  unsatisfactory  life, 
thus  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  it  in  exile.  In  such 
a  case  we  are  always  deferring  the  reality  of  life  till  a 
future  moment,  and,  by  and  by,  we  have  deferred  it 
till  there  are  no  future  moments  ;  or,  if  we  do  go  back, 
we  find  that  life  has  shifted  whatever  of  reality  it  had 
to  the  country  where  we  deemed  ourselves  only  living 
temporarily ;  and  so  between  two  stools  we  come  to 
the  ground,  and  make  ourselves  a  part  of  one  or  the 
other  country  only  by  laying  our  bones  in  its  soil.  It 
is  particularly  a  pity  in  Powers's  case,  because  he  is  so 
very  American  in  character,  and  the  only  convenience 
for  him  of  his.  Italian  residence  is,  that  here  he  can 
supply  himself  with  marble,  and  with  workmen  to 
chisel  it  according  to  his  designs. 


SIENA. 

October  2d.  —  Yesterday  morning,  at  six  o'clock, 
•we  left  our  ancient  tower,  and  threw  a  parting  glance 
—  and  a  rather  sad  one  —  over  the  misty  Val  d'  Arno. 
This  summer  will  look  like  a  happy  one  in  our  chil 
dren's  retrospect,  and  also,  no  doubt,  in  the  years 
that  remain  to  ourselves  ;  and,  in  truth,  I  have  found 
it  a  peaceful  and  not  unchcerful  one. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  morning,  and  Monte  Morcllo, 
looking  down  on  Florence,  had  on  its  cap,  betokening 
foul  weather,  according  to  the  proverb.  Crossing  the 
suspension-bridge,  we  reached  the  Leopoldo  railway 
without  entering  the  city.  By  some  mistake,  —  or 


1858.]  ITALY.  163 

perhaps  because  nobody  ever  travels  by  first-class  car 
riages  in  Tuscany,  —  we  found  we  had  received  second- 
class  tickets,  and  were  put  into  a  long,  crowded 
carriage,  full  of  priests,  military  men,  commercial  trav 
ellers,  and  other  respectable  people,  facing  one  another 
lengthwise  along  the  carriage,  and  many  of  them 
smoking  cigars.  They  were  all  perfectly  civil,  and  I 
think  I  must  own  that  the  manners  of  this  second- 
class  would  compare  favorably  with  those  of  an  Ameri 
can  first-class  one. 

At  Empoli,  about  an  hour  after  we  started,  we  had 
to  change  carriages,  the  main  train  proceeding  to  Leg 
horn My  observations  along  the  road  were 

very  scanty  :  a  hilly  country,  with  several  old  towns 
seated  on  the  most  elevated  hill-tops,  as  is  common 
throughout  Tuscany,  or  sometimes  a  fortress  with  a 
town  on  the  plain  at  its  base ;  or,  once,  or  twice,  the 
towers  and  battlements  of  a  mediaeval  castle,  com 
manding  the  pass  below  it.  Near  Florence  the  coun 
try  was  fertile  in  the  vine  and  olive,  and  looked  as  un- 
picturesque  as  that  sort  of  fertility  usually  makes  it  j 
not  but  what  I  have  come  to  think  better  of  the 
tint  of  the  olive-leaf  than  when  I  first  saw  it.  In  the 
latter  part  of  our  journey  I  remember  a  wild  stream, 
of  a  greenish  hue,  but  transparent,  rushing  along  over 
a  rough  bed,  and  before  reaching  Siena  we  rumbled 
into  a  long  tunnel,  and  emerged  from  it  near  the 
city.  .... 

fe  drove  up  hill  and  down  (for  the  surface  of  Siena 
s  to  be  nothing  but  an  irregularity)  through  nar- 
]d   streets,   and  were  set  down  at  the  Aquila 


1G4  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Neva,  a  grim-looking  albergo  near  the  centre  of  the 

town.     Mrs.  S had  already  taken   rooms  for  us 

there,  and  to  these  we  were  now  ushered  up  the 
highway  of  a  dingy  stone  staircase,  and  into  a  small, 
brick-paved  parlor.  The  house  seemed  endlessly 
old,  and  all  the  glimpses  that  we  caught  of  Siena 
out  of  window  seemed  more  ancient  still.  Almost 
within  arm's  reach,  across  a  narrow  street,  a  tall 
palace  of  gray,  time-worn  stone  clambered  skyward, 
with  arched  windows,  and  square  windows,  and  large 
windows  and  small,  scattered  up  and  down  its  side. 
It  is  the  Palazzo  Tolomei,  and  looks  immensely 
venerable.  From  the  windows  of  our  bedrooms  we 
looked  into  a  broader  street,  though  still  not  very- 
wide,  and  into  a  small  piazza,  the  most  conspicuous 
object  in  which  was  a  column,  bearing  on  its  top  a 
bronze  wolf  suckling  Romulus  and  Remus.  This 
symbol  is  repeated  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  and 
seems  to  indicate  that  the  Sienese  people  pride  them 
selves  in  a  Roman  origin.  In  another  direction,  over 
the  tops  of  the  houses,  we  saw  a  very  high  tower, 
with  battlements  projecting  around  its  summit,  so 
that  it  was  a  fortress  in  the  air ;  and  this  I  have  since 
found  to  be  the  Palazzo  Publico.  It  was  pleasant, 
looking  downward  into  the  little  old  piazza  and 
narrow  streets,  to  see  the  swarm  of  life  on  the  pave 
ment,  the  life  of  to-day  just  as  new  as  if  it  had  never 
been  lived  before ;  the  citizens,  the  priests,  the  sol 
diers,  the  mules  and  asses  with  their  panniers,  the 
diligence  lumbering  along,  with  a  postilion  in  a  faded 
crimson  coat  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  off-horse. 


1858.]  ITALY.  165 

Such  a  bustling  scene,  vociferous,  too,  with  various 
street-cries,  is  wonderfully  set  off  by  the  gray  an- 
ticfuity  of  the  town,  and  makes  the  town  look  older 
than  if  it  were  a  solitude. 

Soon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Story  came,  and  accompanied 
us  to  look  for  lodgings.  They  also  drove  us  about 
the  city  in  their  carriage,  and  showed  us  the  outside 
of  the  Palazzo  Publico,  and  of  the  Cathedral  and  other 
remarkable  edifices.  The  aspect  of  Siena  is  far  more 
picturesque  than  that  of  any  other  town  in  Italy,  so 
far  as  I  know  Italian  towns;  and  yet,  now  that  I 
have  written  it,  I  remember  Perugia,  and  feel  that 
the  observation  is  a  mistake.  But  at  any  rate  Siena 
is  remarkably  picturesque,  standing  on  such  a  site, 
on  the  verge  and  within  the  crater  of  an  extinct  vol 
cano,  and  therefore  being  as  uneven  as  the  sea  in  a 
tempest ;  the  streets  so  narrow,  ascending  between 
tall,  ancient  palaces,  while  the  side  streets  rush  head 
long  down,  only  to  be  threaded  by  sure-footed  mules, 
such  as  climb  Alpine  heights ;  old  stone  balconies  on 
the  palace  fronts ;  old  arched  doorways,  and  windows 
set  in  frames  of  Gothic  architecture ;  arcades,  resem 
bling  canopies  of  stone,  with  quaintly  sculptured 
statues  in  the  richly  wrought  Gothic  niches  of  each 
pillar  ;  —  everything  massive  and  lofty,  yet  minutely 
interesting  when  you  look  at  it  stone  by  stone.  The 
Florentines,  and  the  Romans  too,  have  obliterated, 
as  far  as  they  could,  all  the  interest  of  their  mediaeval 
structures  by  covering  them  with  stucco,  so  that  they 
have  quite  lost  their  character,  and  affect  the  spectator 
with  no  reverential  idea  of  age.  Here  the  city  is  all 


166  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

overwritten  with  black-letter,  and  the  glad  Italian 
sun  makes  the  effect  so  much  the  stronger. 

We  took  a  lodging,  and  afterwards  J and  I 

rambled  about,  and  went  into  the  Cathedral  for  a 
moment,  and  strayed  also  into  the  Piazza  del  Campo, 
the  great  public  square  of  Siena.  I  am  not  in  the 
mood  for  further  description  of  public  places  now,  so 
shall  say  a  word  or  two  about  the  old  palace  in 
which  we  have  established  ourselves.  We  have  the 
second  piano,  and  dwell  amid  faded  grandeur,  having 
for  our  saloon  what  seems  to  have  been  a  ball-room. 
It  is  ornamented  with  a  great  fresco  in  the  centre  of 
the  vaulted  ceiling,  and  others  covering  the  sides  of 
the  apartment,  and  surrounded  with  arabesque  frame 
works,  where  Cupids  gambol  and  chase  one  another. 
The  subjects  of  the  frescos  I  cannot  make  out,  not 
that  they  are  faded  like  Giotto's,  for  they  are  as  fresh 
as  roses,  and  are  done  in  an  exceedingly  workman 
like  style  ;  but  they  are  allegories  of  Fame  and  Plenty 
and  other  matters,  such  as  I  could  never  understand. 
Our  whole  accommodation  is  in  similar  style,  — 
spacious,  magnificent,  and  mouldy. 

In  the  evening  Miss  S and  I  drove  to  the  rail 
way,  and  on  the  arrival  of  the  train  from  Florence  we 
watched  with  much  eagerness  the  unlading  of  the 
luggage-van.  At  last  the  whole  of  our  ten  trunks 
and  tin  bandbox  were  produced,  and  finally  my 
leather  bag,  in  which  was  my  journal  and  a  manu 
script  book  containing  my  sketch  of  a  romance.  It 
gladdened  my  very  heart  to  see  it,  and  I  shall  think 
the  better  of  Tuscan  promptitude  and  accuracy  for  so 


1858.]  ITALY.  1G7 

quickly  bringing  it  back  to  me.  (It  was  left  behind, 
under  one  of  the  rail  carriage  seats.)  We  find  all  the 
public  officials,  whether  of  railway,  police,  or  custom 
house,  extremely  courteous  and  pleasant  to  encounter ; 
they  seem  willing  to  take  trouble  and  reluctant  to 
give  it,  and  it  is  really  a  gratification  to  find  that 
such  civil  people  will  sometimes  oblige  you  by  taking 
a  paul  or  two  aside. 

October  3d.  —  I  took  several  strolls  about  the  city 
yesterday,  and  find  it  scarcely  extensive  enough  to 
get  lost  in  ;  and  if  we  go  far  from  the  centre  we  soon 
come  to  silent  streets,  with  only  here  and  there  an. 
individual ;  and  the  inhabitants  stare  from  their  doors 
and  windows  at  the  stranger,  and  turn  round  to  look 
at  him  after  he  has  passed.  The  interest  of  the  old 
town  would  soon  be  exhausted  for  the  traveller,  but  I 
can  conceive  that  a  thoughtful  and  shy  man  might 
settle  down  here  with  the  view  of  making  the  place  a 
home,  and  spend  many  years  in  a  sombre  kind  of  hap 
piness.  I  should  prefer  it  to  Florence  as  a  residence, 
Tout  it  would  be  terrible  without  an  independent  life 
in  one's  own  mind. 

U and  I  walked  out  in  the  afternoon,  and  went 

into  the  Piazza  del  Campo,  the  principal  place  of  the 
city,  and  a  very  noble  and  peculiar  one.  It  is  much 
in  the  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  and  the  surface  of  the 
ground  seems  to  be  slightly  scooped  out,  so  that  it 
resembles  the  shallow  basin  of  a  shell.  It  is  thus  a 
much  better  sight  for  an  assemblage  of  the  populace 
than  if  it  were  a  perfect  level.  A  semicircle  or  trun 
cated  ellipse  of  stately  and  ancient  edifices  surround 


1G8  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858- 

the  piazza,  with  arches  opening  beneath  them,  through 
which  streets  converge  hitherward.  One  side  of  tho 
piazza  is  a  straight  line,  and  is  occupied  by  the 
Palazzo  Publico,  which  is  a  most  noble  and  impres 
sive  Gothic  structure.  It  has  not  the  mass  of  the 
Palazzo  Vecchio  at  Florence,  but  is  more  striking.  It 
has  a  long  battlemented  front,  the  central  part  of 
which  rises  eminent  above  the  rest,  in  a  great  square 
bulk,  which  is  likewise  crowned  with  battlements. 
This  is  much  more  picturesque  than  the  one  great 
block  of  stone  into  which  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  is  con 
solidated.  At  one  extremity  of  this  long  front  of  the 
Palazzo  Publico  .rises  a  tower,  shooting  up  its  shaft 
high,  high  into  the  air,  and  bulging  out  there  into  a 
battlemented  fortress,  within  which  the  tower,  slen 
derer  than  before,  climbs  to  a  still  higher  region.  I 
do  not  know  whether  the  summit  of  the  tower  is 
higher  or  so  high  as  that  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio ;  but 
the  length  of  the  shaft,  free  of  the  edifice,  is  much 
greater,  and  so  produces  the  more  elevating  effect. 
The  whole  front  of  the  Palazzo  Publico  is  exceedingly 
venerable,  with  arched  windows,  Gothic  carvings,  and 
all  the  old-time  ornaments  that  betoken  it  to  have 
stood  a  great  while,  and  the  gray  strength  that  will 
hold  it  up  at  least  as  much  longer.  At  one  end  of 
the  facade,  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  tower,  is  a 
grand  and  beautiful  porch,  supported  on  square  pillars, 
within  each  of  which  is  a  niche  containing  a  statue  of 
mediaeval  sculpture. 

The  great  Piazza  del  Campo  is  the  market-place  of 
Siena.     In  the  morning  it  was  thronged  with  booths 


1858.]  ITALY.  169 

and  stalls,  especially  of  fruit  and  vegetable  dealers ; 
but  as  in  Florence,  they  melted  away  in  the  sunshine, 
gradually  withdrawing  themselves  into  the  shadow 
thrown  from  the  Palazzo  Publico. 

On  the  side  opposite  the  palace  is  an  antique  foun 
tain  of  marble,  ornamented  with  two  statues  and  a 
series  of  bas-reliefs ;  and  it  was  so  much  admired  in 
its  day  that  its  sculptor  received  the  name  "  Del 
Fonte."  I  am  loath  to  leave  the  piazza  and  palace 
without  finding  some  word  or  two  to  suggest  their 
antique  majesty,  in  the  sunshine  and  the  shadow ; 
and  how  fit  it  seemed,  notwithstanding  their  vener- 
ableness,  that  there  should  be  a  busy  crowd  filling  up 
the  great,  hollow  amphitheatre,  and  crying  their  fruit 
and  little  merchandises,  so  that  all  the  curved  line  of 
stately  old  edifices  helped  to  reverberate  the  noise. 
The  life  of  to-day,  within  the  shell  of  a  time  past,  is 
wonderfully  fascinating. 

Another  point  to  which  a  stranger's  footsteps  are 
drawn  by  a  kind  of  magnetism,  so  that  he  will  be  apt 
to  find  himself  there  as  often  as  he  strolls  out  of  his 
hotel,  is  the  Cathedral.  It  stands  in  the  highest  part 
of  the  city,  and  almost  every  street  runs  into  some 
other  street  which  meanders  hitherward.  On  our  way 

thither,  U and  I  came  to  a  beautiful  front  of 

black  and  white  marble,  in  somewhat  the  same  style 
as  the  Cathedral ;  in  fact,  it  was  the  baptistery,  and 
should  have  made  a  part  of  it,  according  to  the  origi 
nal  design,  which  contemplated  a  structure  of  vastly 
greater  extent  than  this  actual  one.  We  entered  the 
baptistery,  and  found  the  interior  small,  but  very  rich 

VOL.  n.  8 


170  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

in  its  clustered  columns  and  intersecting  arches,  and 
its  frescos,  pictures,  statues,  and  ornaments.  More 
over,  a  father  and  mother  had  brought  their  baby  to 
be  baptized,  and  the  poor  little  thing,  in  its  gay  swad 
dling-clothes,  looked  just  like  what  I  have  seen  in  old 
pictures,  and  a  good  deal  like  an  Indian  pappoose.  It 
gave  one  little  slender  squeak  when  the  priest  put  the 
water  on  its  forehead,  and  then  was  quiet  again. 

We  now  went  round  to  the  fagade  of  the  Cathedral. 
....  It  is  of  black  and  white  marble,  with,  I  believe, 
an  intermixture  of  red  and  other  colors ;  but  time  has 
toned  them  down,  so  that  white,  black,  and  red  do  not 
contrast  so  strongly  with  one  another  as  they  may 
have  done  five  hundred  years  ago.  The  architecture 
is  generally  of  the  pointed  Gothic  style,  but  there  are 
likewise  carved  arches  over  the  doors  and  windows, 
and  a  variety  which  does  not  produce  the  effect  of 
confusion,  —  a  magnificent  eccentricity,  an  exuberant 
imagination  flowering  out  in  stone.  On  high,  in  the 
great  peak  of  the  front,  and  throwing  its  colored 
radiance  into  the  nave  within,  there  is  a  round  window 
of  immense  circumference,  the  painted  figures  in  which 
we  can  see  dimly  from  the  outside.  But  what  I  wish 
to  express,  and  never  can,  is  the  multitudinous  richness 
of  the'  ornamentation  of  the  front ;  the  arches  within, 
arches,  sculptured  inch  by  inch,  of  the  deep  doorways; 
the  statues  of  saints,  some  making  a  hermitage  of  a 
niche,  others  standing  forth  ;  the  scores  of  busts,  that 
look  like  faces  of  ancient  people  gazing  down  out  of 
the  Cathedral ;  the  projecting  shapes  of  stone  lions, — 
the  thousand  forms  of  Gothic  fancy,  which  seemed  to 


1858.]  ITALY.  171 

soften  the  marble  and  express  whatever  it  liked,  and 
allow  it  to  harden  again  to  last  forever.  But  my 
description  seems  like  knocking  off  the  noses  of  some 
of  the  busts,  the  fingers  and  toes  of  the  statues,  the 
projecting  points  of  the  architecture,  jumbling  them 
all  up  together,  and  flinging  them  down  upon  the  page. 
This  gives  no  idea  of  the  truth,  nor,  least  of  all,  can  it 
shadow  forth  that  solemn  whole,  mightily  combined 
out  of  all  these  minute  particulars,  and  sanctifying  the 
entire  space  of  ground  over  which  this  cathedral-front 
flings  its  shadow,  or  on  which  it  reflects  the  sun.  A 
majesty  and  a  minuteness,  neither  interfering  with  the 
other,  each  assisting  the  other ;  this  is  what  I  love  in 
Gothic  architecture.  We  went  in  and  walked  about ; 
but  I  mean  to  go  again  before  sketching  the  interior 
in  my  poor  water-colors. 

October  4th.  —  On  looking  again  at  the  Palazzo 
Publico,  I  see  that  the  pillared  portal  which  I  have 
spoken  of  does  not  cover  an  entrance  to  the  palace, 
but  is  a  chapel,  with  an  altar,  and  frescos  above  it. 
Bouquets  of  fresh  flowers  are  on  the  altar,  and  a  lamp 
burns,  in  all  the  daylight,  before  the  crucifix.  The, 
chapel  is  quite  unenclosed,  except  by  an  openwork 
balustrade  of  marble,  on  which  the  carving  looks  very 
ancient.  Nothing  could  be  more  convenient  for  the 
devotions  of  the  crowd  in  the  piazza,  and  no  doubt  the 
daily  prayers  offered  at  the  shrine  might  be  numbered 
by  the  thousand,  —  brief,  but  I  hope  earnest,  • —  like 
those  glimpses  I  used  to  catch  at  the  blue  sky,  reveal 
ing  so  much  in  an  instant,  while  I  was  toiling  at  Brook 
Farm.  Another  picturesque  thing  about  the  Palazzo 


172  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Publico  is  a  great  stone  balcony  quaintly  wrought, 
about  midway  in  the  front  and  high  aloft,  with  two 
arched  windows  opening  into  it. 

After  another  glimpse  at  the  Cathedral,  too,  I 
realize  how  utterly  I  have  failed  in  conveying  the 
idea  of  its  elaborate  ornament,  its  twisted  and  clus 
tered  pillars,  and  numberless  devices  of  sculpture; 
nor  did  I  mention  the  venerable  statues  that  stand 
all  round  the  summit  of  the  edifice,  relieved  against 
the  sky,  —  the  highest  of  all  being  one  of  the  Saviour, 
on  the  topmost  peak  of  the  front ;  nor  the  tall  tower 
that  ascends  from  one  side  of  the  building,  and  is 
built  of  layers  of  black  and  white  marble  piled  one 
upon  another  in  regular  succession ;  nor  the  dome 
that  swells  upward  close  beside  this  tower. 

Had  the  Cathedral  been  constructed  on  the  plan 
and  dimensions  at  first  contemplated,  it  would  have 
been  incomparably  majestic;  the  finished  portion, 
grand  as  it  is,  being  only  what  was  intended  for  a 
transept.  One  of  the  walls  of  what  was  to  have  been 
the  nave  is  still  standing,  and  looks  like  a  ruin, 
though,  I  believe,  it  has  been  turned  to  account  as 
the  wall  of  a  palace,  the  space  of  the  never-completed 
nave  being  now  a  court  or  street. 

The  whole  family  of  us  were  kindly  taken  out  yes 
terday,  to  dine  and  spend  the  day  at  the  Villa  Belve 
dere  with  our  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Story.  The 
vicinity  of  Siena  is  much  more  agreeable  than  that 
of  Florence,  being  cooler,  breezier,  with  more  foliage 
and  shrubbery  both  near  at  hand  and  in  the  distance ; 
and  the  prospect,  Mr.  Story  told  us,  embraces  a 


1858.]  ITALY. 


173 


diameter  of  about  a  hundred  milec  between  hills 
north  and  south.  The  Villa  Belvedere  was  built  and 
owned  by  an  Englishman  now  deceased,  who  has 
left  it  to  his  butler,  and  its  lawns  and  shrubbery 
have  something  English  in  their  character,  and  there 
was  almost  a  dampness  in  the  grass,  which  really 
pleased  me  in  this  parched  Italy.  Within  the  house 
the  walls  are  hung  with  fine  old-fashioned  engrav 
ings  from  the  pictures  of  Gainsborough,  West,  and 
other  English  painters.  The  Englishman,  though 
he  had  chosen  to  live  and  die  in  Italy,  had  evidently 
brought  his  native  tastes  and  peculiarities  along  with 
him.  Mr.  Story  thinks  of  buying  this  villa  :  I  do  not 
know  but  I  might  be  tempted  to  buy  it  myself  if 
Siena  were  a  practicable  residence  for  the  entire 
year ;  but  the  winter  here,  with  the  bleak  mountain- 
winds  of  a  hundred  miles  round  about  blustering 
against  it,  must  be  terribly  disagreeable. 

We  spent  a  very  pleasant  day,  turning  over  books 
or  talking  on  the  lawn,  whence  we  could  behold 
scenes  picturesque  afar,  and  rich  vineyard  glimpses 
near  at  hand.  Mr.  Story  is  the  most  variously  ac 
complished  and  brilliant  person,  the  fullest  of  social 
life  and  fire,  whom  I  ever  met ;  and  without  seeming 
to  make  an  effort,  he  kept  us  amused  and  entertained 
the  whole  day  long;  not  wearisomely  entertained 
neither,  as  we  should  have  been  if  he  had  not  let  his 
fountain  play  naturally.  Still,  though  he  bubbled 
and  brimmed  over  with  fun,  he  left  the  impression 
on  me  that  ....  there  is  a  pain  and  care,  bred,  it 
may  be,  out  of  the  very  richness  of  his  gifts  and 


174:  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858, 

abundance  of  his  outward  prosperity.  Rich,  in  the 
prime  of  life,  ....  and  children  budding  and 
blossoming  around  him  as  fairly  as  his  heart  could 
wish,  with  sparkling  talents,  —  so  many,  that  if  he 
choose  to  neglect  or  fling  away  one,  or  two,  or  three, 
he  would  still  have  enough  left  to  shine  with,  —  who 
should  be  happy  if  not  he  ?  .... 

Towards  sunset  we  all  walked  out  into  the  podere, 
pausing  a  little  while  to  look  down  into  a  well  that 
stands  on  the  verge  of  the  lawn.  "Within  the  spacious 
circle  of  its  stone  curb  was  an  abundant  growth  of 
maidenhair,  forming  a  perfect  wreath  of  thickly 
clustering  leaves  quite  round,  and  trailing  its  tendrils 
downward  to  the  water  which  gleamed  beneath.  It 
was  a  very  pretty  sight.  Mr.  Story  bent  over  the 
well  and  uttered  deep,  musical  tones,  which  were 
reverberated  from  the  hollow  depths  with  wonderful 
effect,  as  if  a  spirit  dwelt  within  there,  and  (unlike  the 
spirits  that  speak  through  mediums)  sent  him  back 
responses  even  profounder  and  more  melodious  than 
the  tones  that  awakened  them.  Such  a  responsive 
well  as  this  might  have  been  taken  for  an  oracle  in 
old  days. 

We  went  along  paths  that  led  from  one  vineyard 
to  another,  and  which  might  have  led  us  for  miles 
across  the  country. .  The  grapes  had  been  partly 
gathered,  but  still  there  were  many  purple  or  white 
clusters  hanging  heavily  on  the  vines.  We  passed 
cottage-doors,  and  saw  groups  of  contadini  and  cou- 
tadine  in  their  festal  attire,  and  they  saluted  us  gra 
ciously;  but  it  was  observable  that  one  of  the  men 


1858.]  ITALY.  175 

generally  lingered  on  our  track  to  see  that  no  grapes 
were  stolen,  for  there  were  a  good  many  young  people 
and  children  in  our  train,  not  only  our  own,  but  some 
from  a  neighboring  villa.  These  Italian  peasants 
are  a  kindly  race,  but,  I  doubt,  not  very  hospitable  of 
grape"  or  fig. 

There  was  a  beautiful  sunset,  and  by  the  time  we 
reached  the  house  again  the  comet  was  already  visi 
ble  amid  the  unextinguished  glow  of  daylight.  A 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  B ,  Scotch  people  from  the  next 

villa,  had  come  to  see  the  Story s,  and  we  sat  till  tea- 
time  reading,  talking,  William  Story  drawing  carica 
tures  for  his  children's  amusement  and  ours,  and  all 
of  us  sometimes  getting  up  to  look  at  the  comet, 
which  blazed  brighter  and  brighter  till  it  went  down 
into  the  mists  of  the  horizon.  Among  the  caricatures 
was  one  of  a  Presidential  candidate,  evidently  a  man 
of  very  malleable  principles,  and  likely  to  succeed. 

Late  in  the  evening  (too  late  for  little  Rosebud) 
we  drove  homeward.  The  streets  of  old  Siena  looked 
very  grim  at  night,  and  it  seemed  like  gazing  into 
caverns  to  glimpse  down  some  of  the  side  streets  as 
we  passed,  with  a  light  burning  dimly  at  the  end  of 
them.  It  was  after  ten  when  we  reached  home,  and 
climbed  up  our  gloomy  staircase,  lighted  by  the 
glimmer  of  some  wax  moccoli  which  I  had  in  my 
pocket. 

October  5th.  —  I  have  been  two  or  three  times  into 
the  Cathedral ;  .  .  .  .  the  whole  interior  is  of  marble,  in 
alternate  lines  of  black  and  white,  each  layer  being 
about  eight  inches  in  width  and  extending  horizon- 


176  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

tally.  It  looks  very  curiously,  and  might  remind  the 
spectator  of  a  stuff  with  horizontal  stripes.  Never 
theless,  the  effect  is  exceedingly  rich,  these  alternate 
lines  stretching  away  along  the  walls  and  round  the 
clustered  pillars,  seen  aloft,  and  through  the  arches ; 
everywhere,  this  inlay  of  black  and  white.  Every 
sort  of  ornament  that  could  be  thought  of  seems  to 
have  been  crammed  into  the  Cathedral  in  one  place 
or  another  :  gilding,  frescos,  pictures ;  a  roof  of  blue, 
spangled  with  golden  stars ;  a  magnificent  wheel 
window  of  old  painted  glass  over  the  entrance,  and 
another  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  Cathedral ;  statues, 
some  of  marble,  others  of  gilded  bronze  ;  pulpits  of 
carved  marble ;  a  gilded  organ  :  a  cornice  of  marble 
busts  of  the  popes,  extending  round  the  entire  church  ; 
a  pavement,  covered  all  over  with  a  strange  kind 
of  mosaic-work  in  various  marbles,  wrought  into 
marble  pictures  of  sacred  subjects ;  immense  clustered 
pillars  supporting  the  round  arches  that  divide  the 
nave  from  the  side-aisles ;  a  clere-story  of  windows 
within  pointed  arches  ;  —  it  seemed  as  if  the  spectator 
were  reading  an  antique  volume  written  in  black- 
letter  of  a  small  character,  but  conveying  a  high  and 
solemn  meaning.  I  can  find  no  way  of  expressing  its 
effect  on  me,  so  quaint  and  venerable  as  I  feel  this 
cathedral  to  be  in  its  immensity  of  striped  waistcoat, 
now  dingy  with  five  centuries  of  wear.  I  ought  not 
to  say  anything  that  might  detract  from  the  grandeur 
and  sanctity  of  the  blessed  edifice,  for  these  attributes 
are  really  uninjured  by  any  of  the  Gothic  oddities 
which  I  have  hinted  at. 


1858.]  ITALY.  177 

We  went  this  morning  to  the  Institute  of  the  Fine 
Arts,  which  is  interesting  as  containing  a  series  of 
the  works  of  the  Sienese  painters  from  a  date  earlier 
than  that  of  Cimabue.  There  is  a  dispute,  I  believe, 
between  Florence  and  Siena  as  to  which  city  may 
claim  the  credit  of  having  originated  the  modern  art 
of  painting.  The  Florentines  put  forward  Cimabue 
as  the  first  artist,  but  as  the  Sienese  produce  a  pic 
ture,  by  Guido  da  Siena,  dated  before  the  birth  of 
Cimabue,  the  victory  is  decidedly  with  them.  As  to 
pictorial  merit,  to  my  taste  there  is  none  in  either  of 
these  old  painters,  nor  in  any  of  their  successors  for 
a  long  time  afterwards.  At  the  Institute  there  are 
several  rooms  hung  with  early  productions  of  the 
Sienese  school,  painted  before  the  invention  of  oil- 
colors,  on  wood  shaped  into  Gothic  altar-pieces.  The 
backgrounds  still  retain  a  bedimmed  splendor  of 
gilding.  There  is  a  plentiful  use  of  red,  and  I  can 
conceive  that  the  pictures  must  have  shed  an  illumina 
tion  through  the  churches  where  they  were  displayed. 
There  is  often,  too,  a  minute  care  bestowed  on  the 
faces  in  the  pictures,  and  sometimes  a  very  strong 
expression,  stronger  than  modern  artists  get,  and  it 
is  very  strange  how  they  attained  this  merit  while 
they  were  so  inconceivably  rude  in  other  respects. 
It  is  remarkable  that  all  the  early  faces  of  the  Ma 
donna  are  especially  stupid,  and  all  of  the  same  type, 
a  sort  of  face  such  as  one  might  carve  on  a  pumpkin, 
representing  a  heavy,  sulky,  phlegmatic  woman,  with 
a  long  and  low  arch  of  the  nose.  This  same  dull 
face  continues  to  be  assigned  to  the  Madonna,  even 
8*  L 


178  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

when  the  countenances  of  the  surrounding  saints  and 
angels  are  characterized  with  power  and  beauty,  so 
that  I  think  there  must  have  been  some  portrait  of 
this  sacred  personage  reckoned  authentic,  which  the 
early  painters  followed  and  religiously  repeated. 

At  last  we  came  to  a  picture  by  Sodoma,  the  most 
illustrious  representative  of  the  Sienese  school.  It 
was  a  fresco ;  Christ  bound  to  the  pillar,  after  having 
been  scourged.  I  do  believe  that  painting  has  never 
done  anything  better,  so  far  as  expression  is  con 
cerned,  than  this  figure.  In  all  these  generations 
§ince  it  was  painted  it  must  have  softened  thousands 
of  hearts,  drawn  down  rivers  of  tears,  been  more 
effectual  than  a  million  of  sermons.  Really,  it  is  a 
thing  to  stand  and  weep  at.  No  other  painter  has 
done  anything  that  can  deserve  to  be  compared  to 
this. 

There  are  some  other  pictures  by  Sodoma,  among 
them  a  Judith,  very  noble  and  admirable,  and  full  of 
a  profound  sorrow  for  the  deed  which  she  has  felt  it 
her  mission  to  do. 

Aquila  Nera,  October  1th.  —  Our  lodgings  in  Siena 
had  been  taken  only  for  five  days,  as  they  were  al 
ready  engaged  after  that  period ;  so  yesterday  we 
returned  to  our  old  quarters  at  the  Black  Eagle. 

In  the  forenoon  J and  I  went  out  of  one  of  the 

gates  (the  road  from  it  leads  to  Florence)  and  had  a 
pleasant  country  walk.  Our  way  wound  downward, 
round  the  hill  on  which  Siena  stands,  and  gave  us 
views  of  the  Duomo  and  its  campanile;  seemingly 
pretty  near,  after  we  had  walked  long  enough  to  be 


1858.]  ITALY.  179 

quite  remote  from  them.  Sitting  awhile  on  the  para 
pet  of  a  bridge,  I  saw  a  laborer  chopping  the  branches 
off  a  poplar-tree  which  he  had  felled  ;  and,  when  it 
was  trimmed,  he  took  up  the  large  trunk  on  one  of  his 
shoulders  and  carried  it  off,  seemingly  with  ease.  He 
did  not  look  like  a  particularly  robust  man  ;  but  I 
have  never  seen  such  an  herculean  feat  attempted  by 
an  Englishman  or  American.  It  has  frequently  struck 
rne  that  the  Italians  are  able  to  put  forth  a  great  deal 
of  strength  in  such  insulated  efforts  as  this ;  but  I 
have  been  told  that  they  are  less  capable  of  continued 
endurance  and  hardship  than  our  own  race.  I  do  not 
know  why  it  should  be  so,  except  that  I  presume  their 
food  is  less  strong  than  ours.  There  was  no  other 
remarkable  incident  in  our  walk,  which  lay  chiefly 
through  gorges  of  the  hills,  winding  beneath  high  cliffs 
of  the  brown  Siena  earth,  with  many  pretty  scenes 
of  rural  landscape ;  vineyards  everywhere,  and  olive- 
trees;  a  mill  on  its  little  stream,  over  which  there 
was  an  old  stone  bridge,  with  a  graceful  arch ;  farm 
houses  ;  a  villa  or  two  ;  subterranean  passages,  pass 
ing  from  the  roadside  through  the  high  banks  into  the 
vineyards.  At  last  we  turned  aside  into  a  road  which 
led  us  pretty  directly  to  another  gate  of  the  city,  and 
climbed  steeply  upward  among  tanneries,  where  the 
young  men  went  about  with  their  well-shaped  legs 
bare,  their  trousers  being  tucked  up  till  they  were 
strictly  breeches  and  nothing  else.  The  campanile 
stood  high  above  us ;  and  by  and  by,  and  very  soon, 
indeed,  the  steep  ascenf  of  the  street  brought  us  into 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Piazza  del  Carnpo,  and  of  our 


180  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1858. 

own  hotel.  ....  From  about  twelve  o'clock  till  one, 
I  sat  at  my  chamber  window  watching  the  specimens 
of  human  life  as  displayed  in  the  Piazza  Tolomei. 
[Here  follow  several  pages  of  moving  objects.]  .... 
Of  course,  a  multitude  of  other  people  passed  by,  but 
the  curiousness  of  the  catalogue  is  the  prevalence  of 
the  martial  and  religious  elements.  The  general  cos 
tume  of  the  inhabitants  is  frocks  or  sacks,  loosely 
made,  and  rather  shabby  ;  often,  shirt-sleeves  ;  or  the 
coat  hung  over  one  shoulder.  They  wear  felt  hats 
and  straw.  People  of  respectability  seem  to  prefer 
cylinder  hats,  either  black  or  drab,  and  broadcloth 
frock-coats  in  the  French  fashion ;  but,  like  the  rest, 
they  look  a  little  shabby.  Almost  all  the  women  wear 
shawls.  Ladies  in  swelling  petticoats,  and  with  fans, 
some  of  which  are  highly  gilded,  appear.  The  people 
generally  are  not  tall,  but  have  a  sufficient  breadth  of 
shoulder  ;  in  complexion,  similar  to  Americans  ;  beard 
ed,  universally.  The  vehicle  used  for  driving  is  a  lit 
tle  gig  without  a  top  ;  but  these  are  seldom  seen,  and 
still  less  frequently  a  cab  or  other  carriages.  The 
gait  of  the  people  has  not  the  energy  of  business  or 
decided  purpose.  Everybody  appears  to  lounge,  and 
to  have  time  for  a  moment's  chat,  and  a  disposition  to 
rest,  reason  or  none. 

After  dinner  I  walked  out  of  another  gate  of  the 
city,  and  wandered  among  some  pleasant  country 
lanes,  bordered  with  hedges,  and  wearing  an  English 
aspect ;  at  least,  I  could  fancy  so.  The  vicinity  of 
Siena  is  delightful  to  walk  about  in  ;  there  being  a 
verdant  outlook,  a  wide  prospect  of  purple  mountains, 


1858.]  ITALY.  181 

though  no  such  level  valley  as  the  Val  d'  Arno  ;  and 
the  city  stands  so  high  that  its  towers  and  domes  are 
seen  more  picturesquely  from  many  points  than  those 
of  Florence  can  be.  Neither  is  the  pedestrian  so 
cruelly  shut  into  narrow  lanes,  between  high  stone 
walls,  over  which  he  cannot  get  a  glimpse  of  land 
scape.  As  I  walked  by  the  hedges  yesterday  I  could 
have  fancied  that  the  olive-trunks  were  those  of  apple- 
trees,  and  that  I  were  in  one  or  other  of  the  two  lands 
that  I  love  better  than  Italy.  But  the  great  white 
villas  and  the  farm-houses  were  unlike  anything  I 
have  seen  elsewhere,  or  that  I  should  wish  to  see  again, 
though  proper  enough  to  Italy. 

October  $th.  —  Thursday  forenoon,  8th,  we  went  to 
see  the  Palazzo  Publico.  There  are  some  fine  old  halls 
and  chapels,  adorned  with  ancient  frescos  and  pic 
tures,  of  which  I  remember  a  picture  of  the  Virgin  by 
Sodoma,  very  beautiful,  and  other  fine  pictures  by  the 
same  master.  The  architecture  of  these  old  rooms  is 
grand,  the  roofs  being  supported  by  ponderous  arches, 
which  are  covered  with  frescos,  still  magnificent, 
though  faded,  darkened,  and  defaced.  We  likewise 
saw  an  antique  casket  of  wood,  enriched  with  gilding, 
which  had  once  contained  an  arm  of  John  the  Baptist, 
—  so  the  custode  told  us.  Oire  of  the  halls  was  hung 
with  the  portraits  of  eight  popes  and  nearly  forty 
cardinals,  who  were  natives  of  Siena.  I  have  done 
hardly  any  other  sight-seeing  except  a  daily  visit  to 
the  Cathedral,  which  I  admire  and  love  the  more  the 
oftener  I  go  thither.'  Its  striped  peculiarity  ceases 
entirely  to  interfere  with  the  grandeur  and  venerable 


182  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

beauty  of  its  impression ;  and  I  am  never  weary  of 
gazing  through  the  vista  of  its  arches,  and  noting  con 
tinually  something  that  I  had  not  seen  before  in  its 
exuberant  adornment.  The  pavement  alone  is  inex 
haustible,  being  covered  all  over  with  figures  of  life- 
size  or  larger,  which  look  like  immense  engravings  of 
Gothic  or  Scriptural  scenes.  There  is  Absalom  hang 
ing  by  his  hair  and  Joab  slaying  him  with  a  spear. 
There  is  Samson  belaboring  the  Philistines  with  the 
jawbone  of  an  ass.  There  are  armed  knights  in  the 
tumult  of  battle,  all  wrought  with  wonderful  expres 
sion.  The  figures  are  in  white  marble,  inlaid  with 
darker  stone,  and  the  shading  is  effected  by  means  of 
engraved  lines  in  the  marble,  filled  in  with  black.  It 
would  be  possible,  perhaps,  to  print  impressions  from 
some  of  these  vast  plates,  for  the  process  of  cutting  the 
lines  was  an  exact  anticipation  of  the  modern  art  of 
engraving.  However,  the  same  thing  was  done  —  and 
I  suppose  at  about  the  some  period  —  on  monumental 
brasses,  and  I  have  seen  impressions  or  rubbings  from 
those  for  sale  in  the  old  English  churches. 

Yesterday  morning,  in  the  Cathedral,  I  watched  a 
woman  at  confession,  being  curious  to  see  how  long 
it  would  take  her  to  tell  her  sins,  the  growth  of  a 
week  perhaps.  I  know  not  how  long  she  had  been 
confessing  when  I  first  observed  her,  but  nearly  an 
hour  passed  before  the  priest  came  suddenly  from  the 
confessional,  looking  weary  and  moist  with  perspira 
tion,  and  took  his  way  out  of  the  Cathedral.  The 
woman  was  left  on  her  knees.  This  morning  I 
watched  another  woman,  and  she  too  was  very  long 


1858.]  ITALY.  183 

about  it,  and  I  could  see  the  face  of  the  priest  behind 
the  curtain  of  the  confessional,  scarcely  inclining  his 
ear  to  the  perforated  tin  through  which  the  penitent 
communicated  her  outpourings.  It  must  be  very 
tedious  to  listen,  day  after  day,  to  the  minute  and 
commonplace  iniquities  of  the  multitude  of  penitents, 
and  it  cannot  be  often  that  these  are  redeemed  by  the 
treasure-trove  of  a  great  sin.  When  her  confession 
was  over  the  woman  came  and  sat  down  on  the  same 
bench  with  me,  where  her  broad-brimmed  straw  hat 
was  lying.  She  seemed  to  be  a  country  woman,  with 
a  simple,  matronly  face,  which  was  solemnized  and 
softened  with  the  comfort  that  she  had  obtained  by 
disburdening  herself  of  the  soil  of  worldly  frailties 
and  receiving  absolution.  An  old  woman,  who  haunts 
the  Cathedral,  whispered  to  her,  and  she  went  and 
knelt  down  where  a  procession  of  priests  were  to 
pass,  and  then  the  old  lady  begged  a  cruzia  of  me, 
and  got  a  half-paul.  It  almost  invariably  happens, 
in  church  or  cathedral,  that  beggars  address  their 
prayers  to  the  heretic  visitor,  and  probably  with  more 
unction  than  to  the  Virgin  or  saints.  However,  I 
have  nothing  to  say  against  the  sincerity  of  this 
people's  devotion.  They  give  all  the  proof  of  it  that 
a  mere  spectator  can  estimate. 

Last  evening  we  all  went  out  to  see  the  comet, 
which  then  reached  its  climax  of  lustre.  It  was  like 
a  lofty  plume  of  fire,  and  grew  very  brilliant  as  the 
night  darkened. 

October  IQth.  —  This  ^morning  too  we  went  to  the 
Cathedral,  and  sat  long  listening  to  the  music  of  the 


184:  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

organ  and  voices,  and  witnessing  rites  and  cere 
monies  which  are  far  older  than  even  the  ancient 
edifice  where  they  were  exhibited.  A  good  many 
people  were  present,  sitting,  kneeling,  or  walking 
about,  —  a  freedom  that  contrasts  very  agreeably  with 
the  grim  formalities  of  English  churches  and  our  own 
meeting-houses.  Many  persons  were  in  their  best 
attire ;  but  others  came  in,  with  unabashed  simplicity, 
in  their  old  garments  of  labor,  sunburnt  women 
from  their  toil  among  the  vines  and  olives.  One 
old  peasant  I  noticed  with  his  withered  shanks  in 
breeches  and  blue  yarn  stockings.  The  people  of 
whatever  class  are  wonderfully  tolerant  of  heretics, 
never  manifesting  any  displeasure  or  annoyance,  though 
they  must  see  that  we  are  drawn  thither  by  curi 
osity  alone,  and  merely  pry  while  they  pray.  I  heart 
ily  wish  the  priests  were  better  men,  and  that  hu 
man  nature,  divinely  influenced,  could  be  depended 
upon  for  a  constant  supply  and  succession  of  good 
and  pure  ministers,  their  religion  has  so  many  ad 
mirable  points.  And  then  it  is  a  sad  pity  that  this 
noble  and  beautiful  cathedral  should  be  a  mere  fossil 
shell,  out  of  which  the  life  has  died  long  ago.  But 
for  many  a  year  yet  to  come  the  tapers  will  burn 
before  the  high  altar,  the  Host  will  be  elevated,  the 
incense  diffuse  its  fragrance,  the  confessionals  be 
open  to  receive  the  penitents.  I  saw  a  father  entering 
with  two  little  bits  of  boys,  just  big  enough  to  toddle 
along,  holding  his  hand  on  cither  side.  The  father 
dipped  his  fingers  into  the  marble  font  of  holy  water,  — • 
which,  on  its  pedestals,  was  two  or  three  times  as 


3858.]  ITALY.  185 

high  as  those  small  Christians,  —  and  wetted  a  hand 
of  each,  and  taught  them  how  to  cross  themselves. 
When  they  come  to  be  men  it  will  be  impossible  to 
convince  those  children  that  there  is  no  efficacy  in 
holy  water,  without  plucking  up  all  religious  faith 
and  sentiment  by  the  roots.  Generally,  I  suspect, 
when  people  throw  off  the  faith  they  were  born  in, 
the  best  soil  of  their  hearts  is  apt  to  cling  to  its 
roots. 

Raised  several  feet  above  the  pavement,  against 
every  clustered  pillar  along  the  nave  of  the  Cathedral, 
is  placed  a  statue  of  Gothic  sculpture.  In  various 
places  are  sitting  statues  of  popes  of  Sienese  nativity, 
all  of  whom,  I  believe,  have  a  hand  raised  in  the  act 
of  blessing.  Shrines  and  chapels,  set  in  grand,  heavy 
frames  of  pillared  architecture,  stand  all  along  the 
aisles  and  transepts,  and  these  seem  in  many  in 
stances  to  have  been  built  and  enriched  by  noble 
families,  whose  arms  are  sculptured  on  the  pedestals 
of  the  pillars,  sometimes  with  a  cardinal's  hat  above 
to  denote  the  rank  of  one  of  its  members.  How  much 
pride,  love,  and  reverence  in  the  lapse  of  ages  must 
have  clung  to  the  sharp  points  of  all  this  sculpture 
and  architecture !  The  Cathedral  is  a  religion  in 
itself,  —  something  worth  dying  for  to  those  who  have 
an  hereditary  interest  in  it.  In  the  pavement,  yes 
terday,  I  noticed  the  gravestone  of  a  person  who  fell 
six  centuries  ago  in  the  battle  of  Monte  Aperto,  and 
was  buried  here  by  public  decree  as  a  meed  of  valor. 

This  afternoon  I  took  a  walk  out  of  one  of  the  city 
gates,  and  found  the  country  about  Siena  as  beautiful 


18G  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858, 

in  this  direction  as  in  all  others.  I  came  to  a  little 
stream  flowing  over  into  a  pebbly  bed,  and  collecting 
itself  into  pools,  with  a  scanty  rivulet  between.  Its 
glen  was  deep,  and  was  crossed  by  a  bridge  of  several 
lofty  and  narrow  arches  like  those  of  a  Roman 
aqueduct.  It  is  a  modern  structure,  however.  Far 
ther  on,  as  I  wound  round  along  the  base  of  a  hill 
which  fell  down  upon  the  road  by  precipitous  cliffs  of 
brown  earth,  I  saw  a  gray,  ruined  wall  on  the  summit, 
surrounded  with  cypress-trees.  This  tree  is  very  fre 
quent  about  Siena,  and  the  scenery  is  made  soft  and 
beautiful  by  a  variety  of  other  trees  and  shrubbery, 
without  which  these  hills  and  gorges  would  have 
scarcely  a  charm.  The  road  was  thronged  with  coun 
try  people,  mostly  women  and  children,  who  had  been 
spending  the  feast-day  in  Siena  ;  and  parties  of  boys 
were  chasing  one  another  through  the  fields,  pretty 
much  as  boys  do  in  New  England  of  a  Sunday,  but 
the  Sienese  lads  had  not  the  sense  of  Sabbath-breaking 
like  our  boys.  Sunday  with  these  people  is  like  any 
other  feast-day,  and  consecrated  to  cheerful  enjoy 
ment.  So  much  religious  observance,  as  regards  out 
ward  forms,  is  diffused  through  the  whole  wTeek  that 
they  have  no  need  to  intensify  the  Sabbath  except 
by  making  it  gladden  the  other  days. 

Returning  through  the  same  gate  by  which  I  had 
come  out,  I  ascended  into  the  city  by  a  long  and 
steep  street,  which  was  paved  with  bricks  set  edge 
wise.  This  pavement  is  common  in  many  of  the 
streets,  which,  being  too  steep  for  horses  and  car 
riages,  are  meant  only  to  sustain  the  lighter  tread 


1858.]  ITALY.  187 

of  mules  and  asses.  The  more  level  streets  are  paved 
with  broad,  smooth  flagstones,  like  those  of  Florence, 
—  a  fashion  which  I  heartily  regret  to  change  for  the 
little  penitential  blocks  of  Rome.  The  walls  of  Siena 
in  their  present  state,  and  so  far  as  I  have  seen  them, 
are  chiefly  brick ;  but  there  are  intermingled  frag 
ments  of  ancient  stone-work,  and  I  wonder  why  the 
latter  does  not  prevail  more  largely.  The  Romans, 
however,  —  and  Siena  had  Roman  characteristics,  —  al 
ways  liked  to  build  of  brick,  a  taste  that  has  made 
their  ruins  (now  that  the  marble  slabs  are  torn  off) 
much  less  grand  than  they  ought  to  have  been.  I 
am  grateful  to  the  old  Sienese  for  having  used  stone 
so  largely  in  their  domestic  architecture,  and  thereby 
rendered  their  city  so  grimly  picturesque,  with  its 
black  palaces  frowning  upon  one  another  from  arched 
windows,  across  narrow  streets,  to  the  height  of  six 
stories,  like  opposite  ranks  of  tall  men  looking  sternly 
into  one  another's  eyes. 

October  llth.  — Again  I  went  to  the  Cathedral  this 
morning,  and  spent  an  hour  listening  to  the  music 
and  looking  through  the  orderly  intricacies  of  the 
arches,  where  many  vistas  open  away  among  the 
columns  of  the  choir.  There  are  five  clustered  columns 
on  each  side  of  the  nave  ;  then  under  the  dome  there 
are  two  more  arches,  not  in  a  straight  line,  but  form 
ing  the  segment  of  a  circle ;  and  beyond  the  circle  of 
the  dome  there  are  four  more  arches,  extending  to  the 
extremity  of  the  chancel.  I  should  have  said,  instead 
of  "  clustered  column^  "  as  above,  that  there  are  five 
arches  along  the  nave  supported  by  columns.  This 


188  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

cathedral  has  certainly  bewitched  me,  to  write  about 
it  so  much,  effecting  nothing  with  my  pains.  I  should 
judge  the  width  of  each  arch  to  be  about  twenty  feet, 
and  the  thickness  of  each  clustered  pillar  is  eight  or 
ten  more,  and  the  length  of  the  entire  building  may 
be  between  two  and  three  hundred  feet ;  not  very 
large,  certainly,  but  it  makes  an  impression  of  gran 
deur  independent  of  size 

I  never  shall  succeed  even  in  reminding  myself  of 
the  venerable  magnificence  of  this  minster,  with  its 
arches,  its  columns,  its  cornice  of  popes'  heads,  its 
great  wheel-windows,  its  manifold  ornament,  all  com 
bining  in  one  vast  effect,  though  many  men  have  la 
bored  individually,  and  through  a  long  course  of  time, 
to  produce  this  multifarious  handiwork  and  headwork. 

I  now  took  a  walk  out  of  the  city.  A  road  turned 
immediately  to  the  left  as  I  emerged  from  the  city, 
and  soon  proved  to  be  a  rustic  lane  leading  past 
several  villas  and  farm-houses.  It  was  a  very  pleasant 
walk,  with  vineyards  and  olive-orchards  on  each  side, 
and  now  and  then  glimpses  of  the  towers  and  sombre 
heaped-up  palaces  of  Siena,  and  now  a  rural  seclusion 
again ;  for  the  hills  rise  and  the  valleys  fall  like  the 
swell  and  subsidence  of  the  sea  after  a  gale,  so  that 
Siena  may  be  quite  hidden  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
of  its  wall,  or  may  be  visible,  I  doubt  not,  twenty 
miles  away.  It  is  a  fine  old  town,  with  every  prom 
ise  of  health  and  vigor  in  its  atmosphere,  and 
really,  if  I  could  take  root  anywhere,  I  know  not  but 
it  could  as  well  be  here  as  in  another  place.  It  would 
only  be  a  kind  of  despair,  however,  that  would  ever 


1858.]  ITALY.  189 

make  me  dream  of  finding  a  home  in  Italy ;  a  sense 
that  I  had  lost  my  country  through  absence  or  incon 
gruity,  and  that  earth  is  not  an  abiding-place.  I 
wonder  that  we  Americans  love  our  country  at  all,  it 
haying  no  limits  and  no  oneness  ;  and  when  you  try 
to  make  it  a  matter  of  the  heart,  everything  falls  away 
except  one's  native  State  ;  neither  can  you  seize  hold 
of  that  unless  you  tear  it  out  of  the  Union,  bleeding 
and  quivering.  Yet  unquestionably,  we  do  stand  by 
our  national  flag  as  stoutly  as  any  people  in  the 
world,  and  I  myself  have  felt  the  heart  throb  at  sight 
of  it  as  sensibly  as  other  men.  I  think  the  singularity 
of  our  form  of  government  contributes  to  give  us  a 
kind  of  patriotism,  by  separating  us  from  other  nations 
more  entirely.  If  other  nations  had  similar  institu 
tions,  —  if  England,  especially,  were  a  democracy,  — 
we  should  as  readily  make  ourselves  at  home  in  an 
other  country  as  now  in  a  new  State. 

October  \2th.  —  And  again  we  went  to  the  Cathedr'al 
this  forenoon,  and  the  whole  family,  except  myself, 
sketched  portions  of  it.  Even  Rosebud  stood  gravely 
sketching  some  of  the  inlaid  figures  of  the  pavement. 
As  for  me,  I  can  but  try  to  preserve  some  memorial 
of  this  beautiful  edifice  in  ill-fitting  words  that  never 
hit  the  mark.  This  morning  visit  was  not  my  final 
one,  for  I  went  again  after  dinner  and  walked  quite 
round  the  whole  interior.  I  think  I  have  not  yet 
mentioned  the  rich  carvings  of  the  old  oaken  seats 
round  the  choir,  and  the  curious  mosaic  of  lighter  and 
darker  woods,  by  whioh  figures  and  landscapes  are 
skilfully  represented  on  the  backs  of  some  of  the 


190  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

stalls.  The  process  seems  to  be  the  same  as  the  in 
laying  and  engraving  of  the  pavement,  the  material 
in  one  case  being  marble,  in  the  other  wood.  The 
only  other  thing  that  I  particularly  noticed  was,  that 
in  the  fonts  of  holy  water  at  the  front  entrance, 
marble  fish  are  sculptured  in  the  depths  of  the  basin, 
and  eels  and  shellfish  crawling  round  the  brim.  Have 
I  spoken  of  the  sumptuous  carving  of  the  capitals  of 
the  columns  1  At  any  rate  I  have  left  a  thousand 
beauties  without  a  word.  Here  I  drop  the  subject. 
As  I  took  my  parting  glance  the  Cathedral  had  a 
gleam  of  golden  sunshine  in  its  far  depths,  and  it 
seemed  to  widen  and  deepen  itself,  as  if  to  convince 
me  of  my  error  in  saying,  yesterday,  that  it  is  not 
very  large.  I  wonder  how  I  could  say  it. 

After  taking  leave  of  the  Cathedral,  I  found  my  way 
out  of  another  of  the  city  gates,  and  soon  turned  aside 

into  a  green  lane Soon  the  lane  passed  through 

a  hamlet  consisting  of  a  few  farm-houses,  the  shabbiest 
and  dreariest  that  can  be  conceived,  ancient,  and  ugly, 
and  dilapidated,  with  iron-grated  windows  below,  and 
heavy  wooden  shutters  on  the  windows  above,  —  high, 
ruinous  walls  shutting  in  the  courts,  and  ponderous 
gates,  one  of  which  was  off  its  hinges.  The  farm-yards 
were  perfect  pictures  of  disarray  and  slovenly  admin 
istration  of  home  affairs.  Only  one  of  these  houses 
had  a  door  opening  on  the  road,  and  that  was  the 
meanest  in  the  hamlet.  A  flight  of  narrow  stone 
stairs  ascended  from  the  threshold  to  the  second  story. 
All  these  houses  were  specimens  of  a  rude  antiquity, 
built  of  brick  and  stone,  with  the  marks  of  arched 


1858.]  ITALY.  191 

doors  and  windows  where  a  subsequent  generation  had 
shut  up  the  lights,  or  the  accesses  which  the  original 
builders  had  opened.  Humble  as  these  dwellings  are, 
—  though  large  and  high  compared  with  rural  resi 
dences  in  other  countries,  —  they  may  very  probably 
date  back  to  the  times  when  Siena  was  a  warlike  re 
public,  and  when  every  house  in  its  neighborhood  had 
need  to  be  a  fortress.  I  suppose,  however,  prowling 
banditti  were  the  only  enemies  against  whom  a  defence 
would  be  attempted.  What  lives  must  now  be  lived 
there,  — •  in  beastly  ignorance,  mental  sluggishness, 
hard  toil  for  little  profit,  filth,  and  a  horrible  discom 
fort  of  fleas ;  for  if  the  palaces  of  Italy  are  overrun 
with  these  pests,  what  must  the  country  hovels 
be!  .... 

We  are  now  all  ready  for  a  start  to-morrow. 

RADICOFANI. 

October  13th.  — We  arranged  to  begin  our  journey 

at  six It  was  a  chill,  lowering   morning,  and 

the  rain  blew  a  little  in  our  faces  before  we  had  gone 
far,  but  did  not  continue  long.  The  country  soon  lost 
the  pleasant  aspect  which  it  wears  immediately  about 
Siena,  and  grew  very  barren  and  dreary.  Then  it 
changed  again  for  the  .better,  the  road  leading  us 
through  a  fertility  of  vines  and  olives,  after  which 
the  dreary  and  barren  hills  came  back  again,  and 
formed  our  prospect  throughout  most  of  the  day.  We 
stopped  for  our  dejeulter  &  la  fourckette  at  a  little  old 
town  called  San  Querico,  which  we  entered  through  a 


192  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ruined  gateway,  the  town  being  entirely  surrounded 
by  its  ancient  wall.  This  wall  is  far  more  picturesque 
than  that  of  Siena,  being  lofty  and  built  of  stone, 
with  a  machicolation  of  arches  running  quite  round 
its  top,  like  a  cornice.  It  has  little  more  than  a  single 
street,  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  narrow, 
paved  with  flagstones  in  the  Florentine  fashion,  and 
lined  with  two  rows  of  tall,  rusty,  stone  houses,  with 
out  a  gap  between  them  from  end  to  end.  The  cafea 
were  numerous  in  relation  to  the  size  of  the  town, 
and  there  were  two  taverns,  —  our  own,  the  Eagle, 
being  doubtless  the  best,  and  having  three  arched  en 
trances  in  its  front.  Of  these,  the  middle  one  led  to 
the  guests'  apartments,  the  one  on  the  right  to  the 
barn,  and  that  on  the  left  to  the  stable,  so  that,  as  is 
visual  in  Italian  inns,  the  whole  establishment  was 
under  one  roof.  We  were  shown  into  a  brick-paved 
room  on  the  first  floor,  adorned  with  a  funny  fresco  of 
Aurora  on  the  ceiling,  and  with  some  colored  prints, 

both  religious  and  profane 

As  we  drove  into  the  town  we  noticed  a  Gothic 
church  with  two  doors  of  peculiar  architecture,  and 
while  our  dejeuner  was  being  prepared  we  went  to 
see  it.  The  interior  had  little  that  was  remarkable, 
for  it  had  been  repaired  early  in  the  last  century,  and 
spoilt  of  course  ;  but  an  old  tryptich  is  still  hanging  in 
a  chapel  beside  the  high  altar.  It  is  painted  on  wood, 
and  dates  back  beyond  the  invention  of  oil-painting, 
and  represents  the  Virgin  and  some  saints  and  angels. 
Neither  is  the  exterior  of  the  church  particularly  in 
teresting,  irith  the  exception  of  the  carving  and  orua- 


1858.]  ITALY.  193 

merits  of  two  of  the  doors.  Both  of  them  have  round 
arches,  deep  and  curiously  wrought,  and  the  pillars  of 
one  of  the  two  are  formed  of  a  peculiar  knot  or  twine 
in  stone-work,  such  as  I  cannot  well  describe,  but  it 
is  both  ingenious  and  simple.  These  pillars  rest  on 
two  nondescript  animals,  which  look  as  much  like 
walruses  as  anything  else.  The  pillars  of  the  other 
door  consist  of  two  figures  supporting  the  capitals,  and 
themselves  standing  on  two  handsomely  carved  lions. 
The  work  is  curious,  and  evidently  very  ancient,  and 
the  material  a  red  freestone. 

After  lunch,  J and  I  took  a  walk  out  of  the 

gate  of  the  town  opposite  to  that  of  our  entrance. 
There  were  no  soldiers  on  guard,  as  at  city  gates  of 
more  importance ;  nor  do  I  think  that  there  is  really 
any  gate  to  shut,  but  the  massive  stone  gateway  still 
stands  entire  over  the  empty  arch.  Looking  back 
after  we  had  passed  through,  I  observed  that  the  lofty 
upper  story  is  converted  into  a  dove-cot,  and  that 
pumpkins  were  put  to  ripen  in  some  open  chambers 
at  one  side.  We  passed  near  the  base  of  a  tall,  square 
tower,  which  is  said  to  be  of  Roman  origin.  The 
little  town  is  in  the  midst  of  a  barren  region,  but  its 
immediate  neighborhood  is  fertile,  and  an  olive- 
orchard,  venerable  of  aspect,  lay  on  the  other  side  of 
the  pleasant  lane  with  its  English  hedges,  and  olive- 
trees  grew  likewise  along  the  base  of  the  city  wall. 
The  arched  machicolations,  which  I  have  before  men 
tioned,  were  here  and  there  interrupted  by  a  house 
which  was  built  upon  the  old  wall  or  incorporated  into 
it ;  and  from  the  windows  of  one  of  them  I  saw  ears  of 

VOL.  II.  9  M 


194  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Indian  corn  hung  out  to  ripen  in  the  sun,  and  some 
body  was  winnowing  grain  at  a  little  door  that 
opened  through  the  wall.  It  was  very  pleasant  to 
see  the  ancient  warlike  rampart  thus  overcome  with 
rustic  peace.  The  ruined  gateway  is  partly  overgrown 
with  ivy. 

Returning  to  our  inn,  along  the  street,  we  saw • 

sketching  one  of  the  doors  of  the  Gothic  church,  in 
the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  the  good  people  of  San 
Querico,  who  made  no  scruple  to  look  over  her 
shoulder,  pressing  so  closely  as  hardly  to  allow  her 
elbow-room.  I  must  own  that  I  was  too  cowardly  to 
come  forward  and  take  my  share  of  this  public  notice, 
so  I  turned  away  to  the  inn  and  there  awaited  her 
coming.  Indeed,  she  has  seldom  attempted  to  sketch 
•without  finding  herself  the  nucleus  of  a  throng. 


VITERBO. 

The  Black  Eagle,  October  lith.  —  Perhaps  I  had 
something  more  to  say  of  San  Querico,  but  I  shall 
merely  add  that  there  is  a  stately  old  palace  of  the 
Piccolomini  close  to  the  church  above  described.  It 
is  built  in  the  style  of  the  Roman  palaces,  and  looked 
almost  large  enough  to  be  one  of  them.  Neverthe 
less,  the  basement  story,  or  part  of  it,  seems  to  be 
used  as  a  barn  and  stable,  for  I  saw  a  yoke  of  oxen  in 
the  entrance.  I  cannot  but  mention  a  most  wretched 
team  of  vetturo-horses  which  stopped  at  the  door  of 
our  albergo :  poor,  lean,  downcast  creators,  with  deep 
furrows  between  their  ribs;  nothing  but  skin  and 


1*58.]  ITALY.  195 

bone,  iii  short,  and  not  even  so  much  skin  as  they 
should  have  had,  for  it  was  partially  worn  off  from 
their  backs.  The  harness  was  fastened  with  ropes, 
the  traces  and  reins  were  ropes ;  the  carriage  was  old 
and  shabby,  and  out  of  this  miserable  equipage  there 
alighted  an  ancient  gentleman  and  lady,  whom  our 
waiter  affirmed  to  be  the  Prefect  of  Florence  and  his 
wife. 

We  left  San  Querico  at  two  o'clock,  and  followed 
an  ascending  road  till  we  got  into  the  region  above 
the  clouds;  the  landscape  was  very  wide,  but  very 
dreary  and  barren,  and  grew  more  and  more  so  till  we 
began  .to  climb  the  mountain  of  Radicofani,  the  peak 
of  which  had  been  blackening  itself  on  the  horizon 
almost  the  whole  day.  When  we  had  come  into  a 
pretty  high  region  we  were  assailed  by  a  real  moun 
tain  tempest  of  wind,  rain,  and  hail,  which  pelted 
down  upon  us  in  good  earnest,  and  cooled  the  air  a 
little  below  comfort.  As  we  toiled  up  the  mountain 
its  upper  region  presented  a  very  striking  aspect, 
looking  as  if  a  precipice  had  been  smoothed  and 
squared  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  old  castle  on 
its  summit  more  inaccessible  than  it  was  by  nature. 
This  is  the  castle  of  the  robber-knight,  Ghino  di 
Tacco,  whom  Boccaccio  introduces  into  the  Decam 
eron.  A  freebooter  of  those  days  must  have  set  a 
higher  value  on  such  a  rock  as  this  than  if  it  had  been 
one  mass  of  diamond,  for  no  art  of  mediaeval  warfare 
could  endanger  him  in  such  a  fortress.  Drawing  yet 
nearer,  we  found  the  *hillside  immediately  above  us, 
strewn  with  thousands  upon  thousands  of  great  frag' 


196          FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

ments  of  stone.  It  looked  as  if  some  great  ruin  had 
taken  place  there,  only  it  was  too  vast  a  ruin  to  have 
been  the  dismemberment  and  dissolution  of  anything 
made  by  man. 

We  could  now  see  the  castle  on  the  height  pretty 
distinctly.  It  seemed  to  impend  over  the  precipice ; 
and  close  to  the  base  of  the  latter  we  saw  the  street 
of  a  town  on  as  strange  and  inconvenient  a  founda 
tion  as  ever  one  was  built  upon.  I  suppose  the  in- 
habitants  of  the  village  were  dependants  of  the  old 
knight  of  the  castle  ;  his  brotherhood  of  robbers,  as 
they  married  and  had  families,  settled  there  under  the 
shelter  of  the  eagle's  nest.  But  the  singularity  is, 
how  a  community  of  people  have  contrived  to  live 
and  perpetuate  themselves  so  far  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  world's  help,  and  seemingly  with  no  means  of  as 
sisting  in  the  world's  labor.  I  cannot  imagine  how 
they  employ  themselves  except  in  begging,  and  even 
that  branch  of  industry  appears  to  be  left  to  the  old 
women  and  the  children.  No  house  was  ever  built 
in  this  immediate  neighborhood  for  any  such  natural 
purpose  as  induces  people  to  build  them  on  other  sites. 
Even  our  hotel,  at  which  we  now  arrived,  could  not 
be  said  to  be  a  natural  growth  of  the  soil ;  it  had 
originally  been  a  whim  of  one  of  the  Grand  Dukes  of 
Tuscany,  —  a  hunting-palace,  —  intended  for  habitation 
only  during  a  few  weeks  of  the  year.  Of  all  dreary 
hotels  I  ever  alighted  at,  mcthinks  this  is  the  most 
so ;  but  on  first  arriving  I  merely  followed  the  waiter 
to  look  at  our  rooms,  across  stone-paved  basement- 
halls  dismal  as  Etruscan  tombs;  up  dim  staircases, 


1858.]  ITALY.  197 

and  along  shivering  corridors,  all  of  stone,  stone,  stone, 
nothing  but  cold  stone.  After  glancing  at  these  pleas 
ant  accommodations,  my  wife  and  I,  with  J ,  set 

out  to  ascend  the  hill  and  visit  the  town  of  Radicofani. 
It  is  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above  our 
hotel,  and  is  accessible  by  a  good  piece  of  road,  though 
very  steep.  As  we  approached  the  town  we  were  as 
sailed  by  some  little  beggars ;  but  this  is  the  case  all 
through  Italy,  in  city  or  solitude,  and  I  think  the 
mendicants  of  Radicofani  are  fewer  than  its  propor 
tion.  We  had  not  got  far  towards  the  village  when, 
looking  back  over  the  scene  of  many  miles  that  lay 
stretched  beneath  us,  we  sawr  a  heavy  shower  appar 
ently  travelling  straight  towards  us  over  hill  and  dale. 
It  seemed  inevitable  that  it  should  soon  be  upon  us, 
so  I  persuaded  my  wife  to  return  to  the  hotel ;  but 

J and  I  kept  onward,  being   determined  to  see 

Radicofani  with  or  without  a  drenching.  We  soon 
entered  the  street ;  the  blackest,  ugliest,  rudest  old 
street,  I  do  believe,  that  ever  human  life  incrusted 
itself  with.  The  first  portion  of  it  is  the  over-brim 
ming  of  the  town  in  generations  subsequent  to  that  in 
which  it  was  surrounded  by  a  wall ;  but  after  going  a 
little  way  wo  came  to  a  high,  square  tower  planted 
right  across  the  way,  with  an  arched  gateway  in  its 
basement  story,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  great  short- 
legged  giant  striding  over  the  street  of  Radicofani. 
Within  the  gateway  is  the  proper  and  original  town, 
though  indeed  the  portion  outside  of  the  gate  is  as 
densely  populated,  as  ugly,  and  as  ancient,  as  that 
within. 


198  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

The  street  was  very  narrow,  and  paved  with  flag 
stones  not  quite  so  smooth  as  those  of  Florence  ;  the 
houses  are  tall  enough  to  be  stately,  if  they  were  not 
so  inconceivably  dingy  and  shabby ;  but,  with  their 
half-dozen  stories,  they  make  only  the  impression  of 
hovel  piled  upon  hovel,  —  squalor  immortalized  in  un- 
decaying  stone.  It  was  now  getting  far  into  the 
twilight,  and  I  could  not  distinguish  the  particularities 
of  the  little  town,  except  that  there  were  shops,  a 
cafe  or  two,  and  as  many  churches,  all  dusky  with  age, 
crowded  closely  together,  inconvenient,  stifled  too,  in 
spite  of  the  breadth  and  freedom  of  the  mountain  at 
mosphere  outside  the  scanty  precincts  of  the  street. 
It  was  a  death-in-life  little  place,  a  fossilized  place, 
and  yet  the  street  was  thronged,  and  had  all  the 
bustle  of  a  city ;  even  more  noise  than  a  city's  street, 
because  everybody  in  Radicofani  knows  everybody, 
and  probably  gossips  with  everybody,  being  every 
body's  blood  relation,  as  they  cannot  fail  to  have  be 
come  after  they  and  their  forefathers  have  been  shut 
up  together  within  the  narrow  walls  for  many  hun 
dred  years.  They  looked  round  briskly  at  J and 

me,  but  were  courteous,  as  Italians  always  are,  and 
made  way  for  us  to  pass  through  the  throng  as  we 
kept  on  still  ascending  the  steep  street.  It  took  us 
but  a  few  minutes  to  reach  the  still  steeper  and  wind 
ing  pathway  which  climbs  towards  the  old  castle. 

After  ascending  above  the  village,  the  path,  though 
still  paved,  becomes  very  rough,  as  if  the  hoofs  of 
Ghino  di  Tacco's  robber  cavalry  had  displaced  the 
stones  and  they  had  never  been  readjusted.  On  every 


1858.]  ITALY.  199 

side,  too,  except  where  the  path  just  finds  space 
enough,  there  is  an  enormous  rubbish  of  huge  stones, 
which  seems  to  have  fallen  from  the  precipice  above, 
or  else  to  have  rained  down  out  of  the  sky.  We  kept 
on,  and  by  and  by  reached  what  seemed  to  have  been 
a  lower  outwork  of  the  castle  on  the  top ;  there  was 
the  massive  old  arch  of  a  gateway,  and  a  great  deal  of 
ruin  of  man's  work,  beside  the  large  stones  that  here, 
as  elsewhere,  were  scattered  so  abundantly.  Within 
the  wall  and  gateway  just  mentioned,  however,  there 
was  a  kind  of  farm-house  adapted,  I  suppose,  out  of 
the  old  ruin,  and  I  noticed  some  ears  of  Indian  corn 
hanging  out  of  a  window.  There  were  also  a  few 
stacks  of  hay,  but  no  signs  of  human  or  animal  life  ; 
and  it  is  utterly  inexplicable  to  me  where  these  pro 
ducts  of  the  soil  could  have  come  from,  for  certainly 
they  never  grew  amid  that  barrenness. 

We  had  not  yet  reached  Ghino's  castle,  and,  being 
now  beneath  it,  we  had  to  bend  our  heads  far  back 
ward  to  see  it  rising  up  against  the  clear  sky  while 
we  were  now  in  twilight.  The  path  upward  looked 
terribly  steep  and  rough,  and  if  we  had  climbed  it  we 
should  probably  have  broken  our  necks  in  descending 
again  into  the  lower  obscurity.  We  therefore  stopped 

here,  much  against  J 's  will,  and  went  back  as  we 

came,  still  wondering  at  the  strange  situation  of  Radi- 
cofani ;  for  its  aspect  is  as  if  it  had  stepped  off  the 
top  of  the  cliff  and  lodged  at  its  base,  though  still  in 
danger  of  sliding  farther  down  the  hillside.  Emer 
ging  from  the  compact,  grimy  life  of  its  street,  we  saw 
that  the  shower  had  swept  by,  or  probably  had  ex- 


200  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

pended  itself  in  a  region  beneath  us,  for  we  were  above 
the  scope  of  many  of  the  showery  clouds  that  haunt  a 
hill-country.  There  was  a  very  bright  star  visible,  I 
remember,  and  we  saw  the  new  moon,  now  a  third  to 
wards  the  full,  for  the  first  time  this  evening.  The 
air  was  cold  and  bracing. 

But  I  am  excessively  sleepy,  so  will  not  describe 
our  great  dreary  hotel,  where  a  blast  bawled  in  an 
interminable  corridor  all  night.  It  did  not  seem  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  wind  out  of  doors,  but 
to  be  a  blast  that  had  been  casually  shut  in  when 
the  doors  were  closed  behind  the  last  Grand  Duke 
who  came  hither  and  departed,  and  ever  since  it  has 
been  kept  prisoner,  and  makes  a  melancholy  wail 
along  the  corridor.  The  dreamy  stupidity  of  this 
conceit  proves  how  sleepy  I  am. 

SETTE  VENE. 

October  I5tk.  —  We  left  Radicofani  long  before  sun 
rise,  and  I  saw  that  ceremony  take  place  from  the 
coupe  of  the  vetturo  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  while. 
A  sunset  is  the  better  sight  of  the  two.  I  have  always 
suspected  it,  and  have  been  strengthened  in  the  idea 
whenever  I  have  had  an  opportunity  of  comparison. 
Our  departure  from  Radicofani  was  most  dreary, 
except  that  we  were  very  glad  to  get  away ;  but  the 
cold  discomfort  of  dressing  in  a  chill  bedroom  by 
candle-light,  and  our  uncertain  wandering  through  the 
immense  hotel  with  a  dim  taper  in  search  of  tho 
breakfast  -  room,  and  our  poor  breakfast  of  eggs, 


1858.]  ITALY.  201 

Italian  bread,  and  coffee,  —  all  these  things  made  me 
wish  that  people  were  created  with  roots  like  trees, 
so  that  they  could  not  befool  themselves  with  wan 
dering  about.  However,  we  had  not  long  been  on 
our  way  before  the  morning  air  blew  away  all  our 
troubles,  and  we  rumbled  cheerfully  onward,  ready 
to  encounter  even  the  papal  custom-house  officers  at 
Ponte  Centino.  Our  road  thither  was  a  pretty  steep 
descent.  I  remember  the  barren  landscape  of  hills, 
with  here  and  there  a  lonely  farm-house,  which  there 
seemed  to  be  no  occasion  for,  where  nothing  grew. 

At  Ponte  Centino  my  passport  was  examined,  and 
I  was  invited  into  an  office  where  sat  the  papal 
custom-house  officer,  a  thin,  subtle-looking,  keen-eyed, 
sallow  personage,  of  aspect  very  suitable  to  be  the 
agent  of  a  government  of  priests.  I  communicated 
to  him  my  wish  to  pass  the  custom-house  without 
giving  the  officers  the  trouble  of  examining  my  lug 
gage.  He  inquired  whether  J  had  any  dutiable  ar 
ticles,  and  wrote  for  my  signature  a  declaration  in  tho 
negative ;  and  then  he  lifted  a  sand-box,  beneath 
which  was  a  little  heap  of  silver  coins.  On  this 
delicate  hint  I  asked  what  was  the  usual  fee,  and 
was  told  that  fifteen  pauls  was  the  proper  sum.  I 
presume  it  'was  entirely  an  illegal  charge,  and  that 
he  had  no  right  to  pass  any  luggage  without  ex 
amination  ;  but  the  thing  is  winked  at  by  the 
authorities,  and  no  money  is  better  spent  for  the 
traveller's  convenience  than  these  fifteen  pauls.  There 
was  a  papal  military  officer  in  the  room,  and  he,  I 
believe,  cheated  me  in  the  change  of  a  Napoleon,  as 

9* 


202  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858- 

his  share  of  the  spoil.  At  the  door  a  soldier  met 
me  with  my  passport,  and  looked  as  if  he  expected 
a  fee  for  handing  it  to  me ;  but  in  this  he  was  dis 
appointed.  After  I  had  resumed  my  seat  in  the 
coup6,  the  porter  of  the  custom-house  —  a  poor,  sickly 
looking  creature,  half  dead  with  the  malaria  of  the 
place  —  appeared,  and  demanded  a  fee  for  doing  noth 
ing  to  my  luggage.  He  got  three  pauls,  and  looked 
but  half  contented.  This  whole  set  of  men  seem  to 
be  as  corrupt  as  official  people  can  possibly  be  ;  and 
yet  I  hardly  know  whether  to  stigmatize  them  as 
corrupt,  because  it  is  not  their  individual  delin 
quency,  but  the  operation  of  a  regular  system.  Their 
superiors  know  what  men  they  are,  and  calculate 
upon  their  getting  a  living  by  just  these  means. 
And,  indeed,  the  custom-house  and  passport  reg 
ulations,  as  they  exist  in  Italy,  would  be  intolerable 
if  there  were  not  this  facility  of  evading  them  at 
little  cost.  Such  laws  are  good  for  nothing  but  to  be 
broken. 

We  now  began  to  ascend  again,  and  the  country 
grew  fertile  and  picturesque.  We  passed  many  mules 
and  donkeys,  laden  with  a  sort  of  deep  firkin  on  each 
side  of  the  saddle,  and  these  were  heaped  up  with 
grapes,  both  purple  and  white.  We  bought  some,  and 
got  what  we  should  have  thought  an  abundance  at 
small  price,  only  we  used  to  get  twice  as  many  at 
Montauto  for  the  same  money.  However,  a  Roman 
paul  bought  us  three  or  four  pounds  even  here.  We 
still  ascended,  and  came  soon  to  the  gateway  of  the 
town  of  Acquapendente,  which  stands  on  a  height 


1858.]  ITALY.  203 

that  seems  to  descend  by  natural  terraces  to  the 
valley  below 

French  soldiers,  in  their  bluish-gray  coats  and 
scarlet  trousers,  were  on  duty  at  the  gate,  and  one  of 
them  took  my  passport  and  the  vetturino's,  and  we  then 
drove  into  the  town  to  wait  till  they  should  be  vised. 
We  saw  but  one  street,  narrow,  with  tall,  rusty,  aged 
houses,  built  of  stone,  evil  smelling ;  in  short,  a  kind 
of  place  that  would  be  intolerably  dismal  in  cloudy 
England,  and  cannot  be  called  cheerful  even  under 

the  sun  of  Italy Priests  passed  and  burly  friars, 

one  of  whom  was  carrying  a  wine-barrel  on  his  head. 
Little  carts,  laden  with  firkins  of  grapes,  and  donkeys 
with  the  same  genial  burden,  brushed  past  our  vetturo, 
finding  scarce  room  enough  in  the  narrow  street.  All 
the  idlers  of  Acquapendente  —  and  they  were  many  — 
assembled  to  gaze  at  us,  but  not  discourteously.  In 
deed,  I  never  saw  an  idle  curiosity  exercised  in  such 
a  pleasant  way  as  by  the  country-people  of  Italy.  It 
almost  deserves  to  be  called  a  kindly  interest  and 
sympathy,  instead  of  a  hard  and  cold  curiosity,  like 
that  of  our  own  people,  and  it  is  displayed  with  such 
simplicity  that  it  is  evident  no  offence  is  intended. 

By  and  by  the  vetturino  brought  his  passport  and 
my  own,  with  the  official  vise,  and  we  kept  on  our 
way,  still  ascending,  passing  through  vineyards  and 
olives,  and  meeting  grape-laden  donkeys,  till  we  came 
to  the  town  of  San  Lorenzo  Nuovo,  a  place  built  by 
Pius  VI.  as  the  refuge  for  the  people  of  a  lowrer  town 
which  had  been  made  -uninhabitable  by  malaria.  The 
new  town,  which  I  suppose  is  hundreds  of  years  old, 


204  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1653. 

with  all  its  novelty  shows  strikingly  the  difference 
between  places  that  grow  up  and  shape  out  their 
streets  of  their  own  accord,  as  it  were,  and  one  that  is 
built  on  a  settled  plan  of  malice  aforethought.  This 
little  rural  village  has  gates  of  classic  architecture,  a 
spacious  piazza,  and  a  great  breadth  of  straight  and 
rectangular  streets,  with  houses  of  uniform  style,  airy 
and  wholesome  looking  to  a  degree  seldom  seen  on 
the  Continent.  Nevertheless,  I  must  say  that  the 
town  looked  hatefully  dull  and  ridiculously  prim, 
and,  of  the  two,  I  had  rather  spend  my  life  in  Radi- 
cofani.  We  drove  through  it,  from  gate  to  gate,  with 
out  stopping,  and  soon  came  to  the  brow  of  a  hill, 
whence  we  beheld,  right  beneath  us,  the  beautiful 
lake  of  Bolsena ;  not  exactly  at  our  feet,  however,  for 
a  portion  of  level  ground  lay  between,  haunted  by 
the  pestilence  which  has  depopulated  all  these  shores, 
and  made  the  lake  and  its  neighborhood  a  solitude. 
It  looked  very  beautiful,  nevertheless,  with  a  sheen 
of  a  silver  and  a  gray  like  that  of  steel  as  the 
wind  blew  and  the  sun  shone  over  it ;  and,  judging 
by  my  own  feelings,  I  should  really  have  thought 
that  the  breeze  from  its  surface  was  bracing  and 
Wealthy. 

Descending  the  hill,  we  passed  the  ruins  of  the  old 
town  of  San  Lorenzo,  of  which  the  prim  village  on 
the  hill-top  may  be  considered  the  daughter.  There 
is  certainly  no  resemblance  between  parent  and  child, 
the  former  being  situated  on  a  sort  of  precipitous 
bluff,  where  there  could  have  been  no  room  .for  piazzas 
and  spacious  streets,  nor  accessibility  except  by  mules, 


J858.]  ITALY.  205 

donkeys,  goats,  and  people  of  Alpine  habits.  There 
was  an  ivy-covered  tower  on  the  top  of  the  bluff,  and 
some  arched  cavern  mouths  that  looked  as  if  they 
opened  into  the  great  darkness.  These  were  the 
entrances  to  Etruscan  tombs,  for  the  town  on  top  had 
been  originally  Etruscan,  and  the  inhabitants  had 
buried  themselves  in  the  heart  of  the  precipitous 
bluffs  after  spending  their  lives  on  its  summit. 

Reaching  the  plain,  we  drove  several  miles  along 
the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  found  the  soil  fertile  and 
generally  well  cultivated,  especially  with  the  vine, 
though  there  were  tracks  apparently  too  marshy  to  be 
put  to  any  agricultural  purpose.  We  met  now  and 
then  a  flock  of  sheep,  watched  by  sallow-looking  and 
spiritless  men  and  boys,  who,  we  took  it  for  granted, 
would  soon  perish  of  malaria,  though,  I  presume,  they 
never  spend  their  nights  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  lake.  I  should  like  to  inquire  whether  animals 
suffer  from  the  bad  qualities  of  the  air.  The  lake  is 
not  nearly  so  beautiful  on  a  nearer  view  as  it  is  from 
the  hill  above,  there  being  no  rocky  margin,  nor 
bright,  sandy  beach,  but  everywhere  this  interval  of 
level  ground,  and  often  swampy  marsh,  betwixt  the 
water  and  the  hill.  At  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  shore  we  saw  two  islands,  one  of  which  is  memo 
rable  as  having  been  the  scene  of  an  empress's  murder, 
but  I  cannot  stop  to  fill  my  journal  with  historical 
reminiscences. 

We  kept  onward  to  the  town  of  Bolsena,  which 
stands  nearly  a  mile  from  the  lake,  and  on  a  site 
higher  than  the  level  margin,  yet  not  so  much  so,  I 


206  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

should  apprehend,  as  to  free  it  from  danger  of  malaria. 
We  stopped  at  an  albergo  outside  of  the  wall  of  the 
town,  and  before  dinner  had  time  to  see  a  good  deal 
of  the  neighborhood.  The  first  aspect  of  the  town 
was  very  striking,  with  a  vista  into  its  street  through 
the  open  gateway,  and  high  above  it  an  old,  gray, 
square-built  castle,  with  three  towers  visible  at  the 
angles,  one  of  them  battlemented,  one  taller  than  the 
rest,  and  one  partially  ruined.  Outside  of  the  town- 
gate  there  were  some  fragments  of  Etruscan  ruin, 
capitals  of  pillars  and  altars  with  inscriptions ;  these 
we  glanced  at,  and  then  made  our  entrance  through 
the  gate. 

There  it  was  again,  - —  the  same  narrow,  dirty,  time- 
darkened  street  of  piled-up  houses  which  we  have  so 
often  seen  ;  the  same  swarm  of  ill-to-do  people,  grape- 
laden  donkeys,  little  stands  or  shops  of  roasted  chest 
nuts,  peaches,  tomatoes,  white  and  purple  figs ;  the 
same  evidence  of  a  fertile  land,  and  grimy  poverty 
in  the  midst  of  abundance  which  nature  tries  to  heap 
into  their  hands.  It  seems  strange  that  they  can 
never  grasp  it. 

We  had  gone  but  a  little  way  along  this  street, 
when  we  saw  a  narrow  lane  that  turned  aside  from 
it  and  went  steeply  upward.  Its  name  was  on  the 
corner, — the  Via  di  Castello,  —  and  as  the  castle  prom 
ised  to  be  more  interesting  than  anything  else,  we 
immediately  began  to  ascend.  The  street  —  a  strange 
name  for  such  an  avenue  —  clambered  upward  in  the 
oddest  fashion,  passing  under  arches,  scrambling  up 
steps,  so  that  it  was  more  like  a  long  irregular  pair 


1858.]  ITALY.  207 

of  stairs  than  anything  that  Christians  call  a  street ; 
and  so  large  a  part  of  it  was  under  arches  that  wo 

scarcely  seemed  to  be  out  of  doors.     At  last  U , 

who  was  in  advance,  emerged  into  the  upper  air,  and 
cried  out  that  we  had  ascended  to  an  upper  town,  and 
a  larger  one  than  that  beneath. 

It  really  seemed  like  coming  up  out  of  the  earth 
into  the  midst  of  the  town,  when  we  found  ourselves 
so  unexpectedly  in  upper  Bolsena.  We  were  in  a  lit 
tle  nook,  surrounded  by  old  edifices,  and  called  the 
Piazza  del  Orologio,  on  account  of  a  clock  that  was 
apparent  somewhere.  The  castle  was  close  by,  and 
from  its  platform  there  was  a  splendid  view  of  the  lake 
and  all  the  near  hill-country.  The  castle  itself  is  still 
in  good  condition,  and  apparently  as  strong  as  ever 
it  was  as  respects  the  exterior  walls ;  but  within  there 
seemed  to  be  neither  floor  nor  chamber,  nothing  but 
the  empty  shell  of  the  dateless  old  fortress.  The 
stones  at  the  base  and  lower  part  of  the  building 
were  so  massive  that  I  should  think  the  Etrurians 
must  have  laid  them  ;  and  then  perhaps  the  Romans 
built  a  little  higher,  and  the  mediaeval  people  raised 
the  battlements  and  towers.  But  we  did  not  look 
long  at  the  castle,  our  attention  being  drawn  to  the 
singular  aspect  of  the  town  itself,  which  —  to  speak 
first  of  its  most  prominent  characteristic  —  is  the  very 
filthiest  place,  I  do  believe,  that  was  ever  inhabited 
by  man.  Defilement  was  everywhere;  in  the  piazza, 
in  nooks  and  corners,  strewing  the  miserable  lanes 
from  side  to  side,  the  refuse  of  every  day,  and  of  accu 
mulated  ages.  I  wonder  whether  the  ancient  Romans 


208  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

were  as  dirty  a  people  as  we  everywhere  find  those 
who  have  succeeded  them  ;  for  there  seems  to  have 
been  something  in  the  places  that  have  been  inhabited 
by  Romans,  or  made  famous  in  their  history,  and  in 
the  monuments  of  every  kind  that  they  have  raised, 
that  puts  people  in  mind  of  their  very  earthliness, 
and  incites  them  to  defile  therewith  whatever  temple, 
column,  ruined  palace,  or  triumphal  arch  may  fall  in 
their  way.  I  think  it  must  be  an  hereditary  trait, 
probably  weakened  and  robbed  of  a  little  of  its  horror 
by  the  influence  of  milder  ages  ;  and  I  am  much  afraid 
that  Ceesar  trod  narrower  and  fouler  ways  in  his  path 
to  power  than  those  of  modern  Rome,  or  even  of  this 
disgusting  town  of  Bolsena.  I  cannot  imagine  any 
thing  worse  than  these,  however.  Rotten  vegetables 
thrown  everywhere  about,  musty  straw,  standing  pud 
dles,  running  rivulets  of  dissolved  nastiness, — these 
matters  were  a  relief  amid  viler  objects.  The  town 
was  full  of  great  black  hogs  wallowing  before  every 
door,  and  they  grunted  ut  us  with  a  kind  of  courtesy 
and  affability  as  if  the  town  were  theirs,  and  it  was 
their  part  to  be  hospitable  to  strangers.  Many  don 
keys  likewise  accosted  us  with  braying ;  children, 
growing  more  uncleanly  every  day  they  lived,  pes 
tered  us  with  begging ;  men  stared  askance  at  us  as 
they  lounged  in  corners,  and  women  endangered  us 
with  slor>s  which  they  were  flinging  from  doorways 
into  the  street.  No  decent  words  can  describe,  no 
admissible  image  can  give  an  idea  of  this  noisome 
place.  And  yet,  I  remember,  the  donkeys  came  up 
the  height  loaded  with  fruit,  and  with  little  flat-sided 


1858.]  ITALY.  209 

barrels  of  wme ;  the  people  had  a  good  atmosphere  — • 
except  as  they  polluted  it  themselves  —  on  their  high 
site,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  they  should 
not  live  a  beautiful  and  jolly  life. 

I  did  not  mean  to  write  such  an  ugly  description 
as  the  above,  but  it  is  well,  once  for  all,  to  have  at 
tempted  conveying  an  idea  of  what  disgusts  the  trav 
eller,  more  or  less,  in  all  these  Italian  towns.  Setting 
aside  this  grand  characteristic,  the  upper  town  of  Bol- 
sena  is  a  most  curious  and  interesting  place.  It  was 
originally  an  Etruscan  city,  the  ancient  Volsinii,  and 
when  taken  and  destroyed  by  the  Romans  was  said  to 
contain  two  thousand  statues.  Afterwards  the  Ro 
mans  built  a  town  upon  the  site,  including,  I  suppose, 
the  space  occupied  by  the  lower  city,  which  looks  as  if 
it  had  brimmed  over  like  Radicofani,  and  fallen  from 
the  precipitous  height  occupied  by  the  upper.  The  lat 
ter  is  a  strange  confusion  of  black  and  ugly  houses,  piled 
massively  out  of  the  ruins  of  former  ages,  built  rudely 
and  without  plan,  as  a  pauper  would  build  his  hovel, 
and  yet  with  here  and  there  an  arched  gateway, 
a  cornice,  a  pillar,  that  might  have  adorned  a  pal 
ace The  streets  are  the  narrowest  I  have  seen 

anywhere,  —  of  no  more  width,  indeed,  than  may  suf 
fice  for  the  passage  of  a  donkey  with  his  panniers. 
They  wind  in  and  out  in  strange  confusion,  and  hardly 
look  like  streets  at  all,  but,  nevertheless,  have  names 
printed  on  the  corners,  just  as  if  they  were  stately 
avenues.  After  looking  about  us  awhile  and  drawing 
half-breaths  so  as  to  take  in  the  less  quantity  of 
gaseous  pollution,  we  went  back  to  the  castle,  and 


210  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1853. 

descended  by  a  path  winding  downward  from  it  into 
the  plain  outside  of  the  town-gate. 

It  was  now  dinner-time,  ....  and  we  had,  in  the 
first  place,  some  fish  from  the  pestiferous  lake  ;  not, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  the  famous  stewed  eels  which, 

Dante  says,  killed  Pope  Martin,  but  some  trout 

By  the  by,  the  meal  was  not  dinner,  but  our  midday 
colazione.  After  despatching  it,  we  again  wandered 
forth  and  strolled  round  the  outside  of  the  lower 
town,  which,  with  the  upper  one,  made  as  picturesque 
a  combination  as  could  be  desired.  The  old  wall  that 
surrounds  the  lower  town  has  been  appropriated,  long 
oince,  as  the  back-wall  of  a  range  of  houses  ;  windows 
have  been  pierced  through  it ;  upper  chambers,  and 
loggie  have  been  built  upon  it ;  so  that  it  looks  some 
thing  like  a  long  row  of  rural  dwellings  with  one 
continuous  front  or  back,  constructed  in  a  strange 
style  of  massive  strength,  contrasting  with  the  vines 
that  here  and  there  are  trained  over  it,  and  with  the 
wreaths  of  yellow  corn  that  hang  from  the  windows. 
But  portions  of  the  old  battlements  are  interspersed 
with  the  line  of  homely  chambers  and  tiled  house-tops. 
Within  the  wall  the  town  is  very  compact,  and  above 
its  roofs  rises  a  rock,  the  sheer,  precipitous  bluff  on 
which  stands  the  upper  town,  whose  foundations  im 
pend  over  the  highest  roof  in  the  lower.  At  one  end 
is  the  old  castle,  with  its  towers  rising  above  the 
square  battlemented  mass  of  the  main  fortress,  and  if 
we  had  not  seen  the  dirt  and  squalor  that  dwells  with 
in  this  venerable  outside,  we  shoulcT  have  carried 
away  a  picture  of  gray,  grim  dignity,  presented  by  a 


1858.]  ITALY.  211 

long  past  age  to  the  present  one,  to  put  its  mean  ways 

and  modes  to  shame.  sat  diligently  sketching, 

and  children  came  about  her,  exceedingly  unfragrant, 
but  very  courteous  and  gentle,  looking  over  her  shoul 
ders,  and  expressing  delight  as  they  saw  each  familiar 
edifice  take  its  place  in  the  sketch.  They  are  a  lov 
able  people,  these  Italians,  as  I  find  from  almost  all 
with  whom  we  come  in  contact ;  they  have  great  and 
little  faults,  and  no  great  virtues  that  I  know  of;  but 
still  are  sweet,  amiable,  pleasant  to  encounter,  save 
when  they  beg,  or  when  you  have  to  bargain  with 
them. 

We  left  Bolsena  and  drove  to  Viterbo,  passing  the 
gate  of  the  picturesque  town  of  Montefiascone,  over 
the  wall  of  which  I  saw  spires  and  towers,  and  the 
dome  of  a  cathedral.  I  was  sorry  not  to  taste,  in  its 
own  town,  the  celebrated  est,  which  was  the  death- 
draught  of  the  jolly  prelate.  At  Viterbo,  however,  I 
called  for  some  wine  of  Montefiascone,  and  had  a 
little  straw-covered  flask,  which  the  waiter  assured  us 
was  the  genuine  est-wine.  It  was  of  golden  color, 
and  very  delicate,  somewhat  resembling  still  cham 
pagne,  but  finer,  and  requiring  a  calmer  pause  to  ap 
preciate  its  subtle  delight.  Its  good  qualities,  how 
ever,  are  so  evanescent,  that  the  finer  flavor  became 
almost  imperceptible  before  we  finished  the  flask. 

Viterbo  is  a  large,  disagreeable  town,  built  at  the 
foot  of  a  mountain,  the  peak  of  which  is  seen  through 
the  vista  of  some  of  the  narrow  streets 

There  are  more  fountains  in  Viterbo  than  I  have 
seen  in  any  other  city  of  its  size,  and  many  of  them 


212  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

of  very  good  design.  Around  most  of  them  there  were 
wine-hogsheads,  waiting  their  turn  to  be  cleansed  and 
rinsed,  before  receiving  the  wine  of  the  present  vint 
age.  Passing  a  doorway,  J saw  some  men  tread 
ing  out  the  grapes  in  a  great  vat  with  their  naked 

feet 

Among  the  beggars  here,  the  loudest  and  most 
vociferous  was  a  crippled  postilion,  wearing  his 
uniform  jacket,  green,  faced  with  red ;  and  he  seemed 
to  consider  himself  entitled  still  to  get  his  living  from 
travellers,  as  having  been  disabled  in  the  way  of  his 
profession.  I  recognized  his  claim,  and  was  rewarded 
with  a  courteous  and  grateful  bow  at  our  departure. 
....  To  beggars  —  after  my  much  experience  both 
in  England  and  Italy  —  I  give  very  little,  though  I 
am  not  certain  that  it  would  not  often  be  real  benefi 
cence  in  the  latter  country.  There  being  little  or  no 
provision  for  poverty  and  age,  the  poor  must  often 
suffer.  Nothing  can  be  more  earnest  than  their  en 
treaties  for  aid ;  nothing  seemingly  more  genuine 
than  their  gratitude  when  they  receive  it.  They 
return  you  the  value  of  their  alms  in  prayers,  and  say, 
"  God  will  accompany  you,"  Many  of  them  have  a 
professional  whine,  and  a  certain  doleful  twist  of  the 
neck  and  turn  of  the  head,  which  hardens  my  heart 
against  them  at  once.  A  painter  might  find  numerous 
models  among  them,  if  canvas  had  not  already  been 
more  than  sufficiently  covered  with  their  style  of  the 
picturesque.  There  is  a  certain  brick-dust  colored 
cloak  worn  in  Vitcrbo,  not  exclusively  by  beggars, 
which,  when  ragged  enough,  is  exceedingly  artistic, 


1858.]  ITALY.  213 

ROME. 

68  Piazza  Poli,  October  11th.  —  We  left  Viterbo 
on  the  15th,  and  proceeded,  through  Monterosi,  to 
Sette  Vene.  There  was  nothing  interesting  at  Sette 
Vetie,  except  an  old  Roman  bridge,  of  a  single  arch, 
which  had  kept  its  sweep,  composed  of  one  row  of 
stones,  unbroken  for  two  or  more  thousand  years,  and 
looked  just  as  strong  as  ever,  though  gray  with  age, 
and  fringed  with  plants  that  found  it  hard  to  fix 
themselves  in  its  close  crevices. 

The  next  day  we  drove  along  the  Cassian  Way 
towards  Rome.  It  was  a  most  delightful  morning,  a 
genial  atmosphere ;  the  more  so,  I  suppose,  because 
this  was  the  Campagna,  the  region  of  pestilence  and 
death.  I  had  a  quiet,  gentle,  comfortable  pleasure, 
as  if,  after  many  wanderings,  I  was  drawing  near 
Rome,  for,  now  that  I  have  known  it  once,  Rome 
certainly  does  draw  into  itself  my  heart,  as  I  think 
even  London,  or  even  little  Concord  itself,  or  old 
sleepy  Salem,  never  did  and  never  will.  Besides,  we 
are  to  stay  here  six  months,  and  we  had  now  a  house 
all  prepared  to  receive  us ;  so  that  this  present  ap 
proach,  in  the  noontide  of  a  genial  day,  was  most 
unlike  our  first  one,  when  we  crept  towards  Rome 
through  the  wintry  midnight,  benumbed  with  cold, 
ill,  weary,  and  not  knowing  whither  to  betake  our 
selves.  Ah  !  that  was  a  dismal  time  !  One  thing, 
however,  that  disturbed  even  my  present  equanimity 
a  little  was  the  necessity  of  meeting  the  custom-house 
at  the  Porta  del  Popolo ;  but  my  past  experience 


214  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

warranted  me  in  believing  that  even  these  ogres 
might  be  mollified  by  the  magic  touch  of  a  scudo  ; 
and  so  it  proved.  We  should  have  escaped  any  ex 
amination  at  all,  the  officer  whispered  me,  if  his 
superior  had  not  happened  to  be  present ;  but,  as  the 
case  stood,  they  took  down  only  one  trunk  from  'the 
top  of  the  vetturo,  just  lifted  the  lid,  closed  it  again, 
and  gave  us  permission  to  proceed.  So  we  came  to 
68  Piazza  Poli,  and  found  ourselves  at  once  at  home, 
in  such  a  comfortable,  cosey  little  house,  as  I  did  not 
think  existed  in  Rome. 

I  ought  to  say  a  word  about  our  vetturino,  Constan 
tino  Bacci,  an  excellent  and  most  favorable  specimen 
of  his  class ;  for  his  magnificent  conduct,  his  liberality, 
and  all  the  good  qualities  that  ought  to  be  imperial, 

S called  him  the  Emperor.     He  took  us  to  good 

hotels,  and  feasted  us  with  the  best ;  he  was  kind  to 
us  all,  and  especially  to  little  Rosebud,  who  used  to 
run  by  his  side,  with  her  small  white  hand  in  his 
great  brown  one  ;  he  was  cheerful  in  his  deportment, 
and  expressed  his  good  spirits  by  the  smack  of  his 
whip,  which  is  the  barometer  of  a  vetturino's  inward 
weather ;  he  drove  admirably,  and  would  rumble  up 
to  the  door  of  an  albergo,  and  stop  to  a  hair's-breadth, 
just  where  it  was  most  convenient  for  us  to  alight ; 
he  would  hire  postilions  and  horses,  where  other 
vetturini  would  take  nothing  better  than  sluggish 
oxen,  to  help  us  up  the  hilly  roads,  so  that  sometimes 
we  had  a  team  of  seven ;  he  did  all  that  we  could 
possibly  require  of  him,  and  was  content  and  more, 
with  a  buon  mano  of  five  scudi,  in  addition  to  the 


1858.]  ITALY.  215 

stipulated  price.  Finally,  I  think  the  tears  had  risen 
almost  to  his  eyelids  when  we  parted  with  him. 

Our  friends,  the  Thompsons,  through  whose  kind 
ness  we  procured  this  house,  called  to  see  us  soon 
after  our  arrival.  In  the  afternoon,  I  walked  with 
Kosebud  to  the  Medici  Gardens,  and  on  our  way 
thither,  we  espied  our  former  servant,  Lalla,  who 
flung  so  many  and  such  bitter  curses  after  us,  on  our 
departure  from  Rome,  sitting  at  her  father's  fruit-stall. 
Thank  God,  they  have  not  taken  effect.  After  going 
to  the  Medici,  we  went  to  the  Pincian  Gardens,  and 
looked  over  into  the  Borghese  grounds,  which,  me- 
thought,  were  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  same 
was  true  of  the  sky,  and  of  every  object  beneath  it ; 
and  as  we  came  homeward  along  the  Corso,  I  won 
dered  at  the  stateliness  and  palatial  magnificence  of 
that  noble  street.  Once,  I  remember,  I  thought  it 
narrow,  and  far  unworthy  of  its  fame. 

In  the  way  of  costume,  the  men  in  goatskin 
breeches,  whom  we  met  on  the  Campagna,  were  very 
striking,  and  looked  like  Satyrs. 

October  2lst.  — .  .  .  .  I  have  been  twice  to  St. 
Peter's,  and  was  impressed  more  than  at  any  former 
visit  by  a  sense  of  breadth  and  loftiness,  and,  as  it 
were,  a  visionary  splendor  and  magnificence.  I  also 
went  to  the  Museum  of  the  Capitol ;  and  the  statues 
seemed  to  me  more  beautiful  than  formerly,  and  I  was 
not  sensible  of  the  cold  despondency  with  which  I 
have  so  often  viewed  them.  Yesterday  we  went  to 
the  Corsini  Palace,  whick  we  had  not  visited  before. 
It  stands  in  the  Trastevere,  in  the  Longara,  and  is  a 


216  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

stately  palace,  with  a  grand  staircase,  leading  to  the 
first  floor,  where  is  situated  the  range  of  picture- 
rooms.  There  were  a  good  many  fine  pictures,  but 
none  of  them  have  made  a  memorable  impression  on 
my  mind,  except  a  portrait  by  Vandyke,  of  a  man  in 
point-lace,  very  grand  and  very  real.  The  room  in 
which  this,  picture  hung  had  many  other  portraits 
by  Holbein,  Titian,  Kembrandt,  Rubens,  and  other 
famous  painters,  and  was  wonderfully  rich  in  this 
department.  In  another,  there  was  a  portrait  of 
Pope  Julius  II.,  by  Raphael,  somewhat  differing  from 
those  at  the  Pitti  and  the  Uffizzi  galleries  in  Florence, 
and  those  I  have  seen  in  England  and  Paris  ;  thinner, 
paler,  perhaps  older,  more  severely  intellectual,  but 
at  least,  as  high  a  work  of  art  as  those. 

The  palace  has  some  handsome  old  furniture,  and 
gilded  chairs,  covered  with  leather  cases,  possibly 
relics  of  Queen  Christina's  time,  who  died  here.  I 
know  not  but  the  most  curious  object  was  a  curule 
chair  of  marble,  sculptured  all  out  of  one  piece,  and 
adorned  with  bas-reliefs.  It  is  supposed  to  be  Etrus 
can.  It  has  a  circular  back,  sweeping  round,  so  as 
to  afford  sufficient  rests  for  the  elbows  ;  and,  sitting 
down  in  it,  I  discovered  that  modern  ingenuity  has 
not  made  much  real  improvement  on  this  chair  of 
three  or  four  thousand  years  ago.  But  some  chairs 
are  easier  for  the  moment,  yet  soon  betray  you,  and 
grow  the  more  irksome. 

We  strolled  along  Longara,  and  found  the  piazza  of 

St.  Peter's  full  of  French  soldiers  at  their  drill 

We  went  quite  round  the  interior  of  the  church,  and 


1858.]  ITALY.  217 

perceiving  the  pavement  loose  and  broken  near  the 
altar  where  Guide's  Archangel  is  placed,  we  picked  up 
some  bits  of  rosso  antico  and  gray  marble,  to  be  set  in 
brooches,  as  relics. 

We  have  the  snuggest  little  set  of  apartments  in 
Rome,  seven  rooms,  including  an  antechamber ;  and 
though  the  stairs  are  exceedingly  narrow,  there  is 
really  a  carpet  on  them, — a  civilized  comfort,  of  which 
the  proudest  palaces  in  the  Eternal  City  cannot  boast. 
The  stairs  are  very  steep,  however,  and  I  should  not 
wonder  if  some  of  us  broke  our  noses  down  them. 
Narrowness  of  space  within  doors  strikes  us  all  rather 
ludicrously,  yet  not  unpleasantly,  after  'being  accus 
tomed  to  the  wastes  and  deserts  of  the  Montauto  Villa. 
It  is  well  thus  to  be  put  in  training  for  the  over-snug- 
ness  of  our  cottage  in  Concord.  Our  windows  here 
look  out  on  a  small  and  rather  quiet  piazza,  with  an 
immense  palace  on  the  left  hand,  and  a  smaller  yet 
statelier  one  on  the  right,  and  just  round  the  corner 
of  the  street,  leading  out  of  our  piazza,  is  the  Fountain 
of  Trevi,  of  which  I  can  hear  the  plash  in  the  evening, 
when  other  sounds  are  hushed. 

Looking  over  what  I  have  said  of  Sodoma's  "  Christ 
Bound,"  at  Siena,  I  see  that  1  have  omitted  to  notice 
what  seems  to  me  one  of  its  most  striking  character 
istics, — its  loneliness.  You  feel  as  if  the  Saviour  were 
deserted,  both  in  heaven  and  earth  ;  the  despair  is  in 
him  which  made  him  say,  "My  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me  1 "  Even  in  this  extremity,  however,  he 
is  still  Divine,  and  Sodoma  almost  seems  to  have 
reconciled  the  impossibilities  of  combining  an  omni- 

VOL.  II.  10 


218  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

present  divinity  with  a  suffering  and  outraged  human 
ity.  But  this  is  one  of  the  cases  in  which  the  specta 
tor's  imagination  completes  what  the  artist  merely 
hints  at. 

Mr. ,  the  sculptor,  called  to  see  us,  the  other 

evening,  and  quite  paid  Powers  off  for  all  his  tren 
chant  criticisms  on  his  brother  artists.  He  will  not 
allow  Powers  to  be  an  artist  at  all,  or  to  know  any 
thing  of  the  laws  of  art,  although  acknowledging  him 
to  be  a  great  bust-maker,  and  to  have  put  together 
the  Greek  Slave  and  the  Fisher-Boy  very  ingeniously. 
The  latter,  however  (he  says),  is  copied  from  the 
Apollino  in  the  Tribune  of  the  Uffizzi ;  and  the  former 
is  made  up  of  beauties  that  had  no  reference  to  one 
another ;  and  he  affirms  that  Powers  is  ready  to  sell, 
and  has  actually  sold,  the  Greek  Slave,  limb  by  limb, 
dismembering  it  by  reversing  the  process  of  putting  it 
together,  — a  head  to  one  purchaser,  an  arm  or  a  foot 
to  another,  a  hand  to  a  third.  Powers  knows  nothing 
scientifically  of  the  human  frame,  and  only  succeeds  in 
representing  it,  as  a  natural  bone-doctor  succeeds  in 
setting  a  dislocated  limb  by  a  happy  accident  or 
special  providence.  (The  illustration  was  my  own,  and 
adopted  by  Mr. .)  Yet  Mr.  seems  to  ac 
knowledge  that  he  did  succeed.  I  repeat  these  things 
only  as  another  instance  how  invariably  every  sculptor 
uses  his  chisel  and  mallet  to  smash  and  deface  the 
marble-work  of  every  other.  I  never  heard  Powers 

speak  of  Mr.  ,  but  can  partly  imagine  what  he 

would  have  said. 

Mr. spoke   of  Powers's  disappointment    about 


1658.]  ITALY.  219 

the  twenty-five-thousand-dollar  appropriation  from  Con 
gress,  and  said  that  he  was  altogether  to  blame,  in 
asmuch  as  he  attempted  to  sell  to  the  nation  for  that 

sum  a  statue  which,  to  Mr. *s  certain  knowledge, 

he  had  already  offered  to  private  persons  for  a  fifth 

part  of  it.  I  have  not  implicit  faith  in  Mr.  's 

veracity,  and  doubt  not  Powers  acted  fairly  in  his  own 
eyes. 

October  23d.  —  I  am  afraid  I  have  caught  one  of 
the  colds  which  the  Roman  air  continually  affected  me 
with  last  winter ;  at  any  rate,  a  sirocco  has  taken  the 
life  out  of  me,  and  I  have  no  spirit  to  do  anything. 
This  morning  I  took  a  walk,  however,  out  of  the 
Porta  Maggiore,  and  looked  at  the  tomb  of  the  baker 
Eurysaces,  just  outside  of  the  gate,  — a  very  singular 
ruin  covered  with  symbols  of  the  man's  trade  in  stone 
work,  and  with  bas-reliefs  along  the  cornice,  represent 
ing  people  at  work,  making  bread.  An  inscription 
states  that  the  ashes  of  his  wife  are  likewise  reposited 
there,  in  a  bread-basket.  The  mausoleum  is  perhaps 
twenty  feet  long,  in  its  largest  extent,  and  of  equal 
height ;  and  if  good  bakers  were  as  scarce  in  ancient 
Home  as  in  the  modern  city,  I  do  not  wonder  that 
they  were  thought  worthy  of  stately  monuments.  None 
of  the  modern  ones  deserve  any  better  tomb  than  a 
pile  of  their  own  sour  loaves. 

I  walked  onward  a  good  distance  beyond  the  gate 
alongside  of  the  arches  of  the  Claudian  aqueduct, 
which,  in  this  portion  of  it,  seems  to  have  had  little 
repair,  and  to  have  needed  little,  since  it  was  built. 
It  looks  like  a  long  procession,  striding  across  the 


220  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1858. 

Campagna  towards  the  city,  and  entering  the  gate, 
over  one  of  its  arches,  within  the  gate,  I  saw  two  or 
three  slender  jets  of  water  spurting  from  the  crevices  ; 
this  aqueduct  being  still  in  use  to  bring  the  Acqua 
Felice  into  Rome. 

Returning  within  the  walls,  I  walked  along  their 
inner  base,  to  the  Church  of  St.  John  Lateran,  into 
which  I  went,  and  sat  down  to  rest  myself,  being 
languid  and  weary,  and  hot  with  the  sun,  though 
afraid  to  trust  the  coolness  of  the  shade.  I  hate  the 
Roman  atmosphere  ;  indeed,  all  my  pleasure  in  get 
ting  back  —  all  my  home-feeling  —  has  already  evapo 
rated,  and  what  now  impresses  me,  as  before,  is  the 
languor  of  Rome,  —  its  weary  pavements,  its  little  life, 
pressed  down  by  a  weight  of  death. 

Quitting  St.  John  Lateran,  I  went  astray,  as  I  do 
nine  times  out  of  ten  in  these  Roman  intricacies,  and 
at  last,  seeing  the  Coliseum  in  the  vista  of  a  street,  I 
betook  myself  thither  to  get  a  fresh  start.  Its  round 
of  stones  looked  vast  and  dreary,  but  not  particularly 
impressive.  The  interior  was  quite  deserted ;  except 
that  a  Roman,  of  respectable  appearance,  was  making 
a  pilgrimage  at  the  altars,  kneeling  and  saying  a 
prayer  at  each  one. 

Outside  of  the  Coliseum,  a  neat-looking  little  boy 
came  and  begged  of  me ;  and  I  gave  him  a  baioccho, 
rather  because  he  seemed  to  need  it  so  little  than 
for  any  other  reason.  I  observed  that  he  immedi 
ately  afterwards  went  and  spoke  to  a  well-dressed 
man,  and  supposed  that  the  child  "was  likewise 
begging  of  him.  I  watched  the  little  boy,  however, 


1859.]  ITALY.  221 

and  saw  that,  in  two  or  three  other  instances, 
after  begging  of  other  individuals,  he  still  returned  to 
this  well-dressed  man ;  the  fact  being,  no  doubt,  that 
the  latter  was  fishing  for  baiocchi  through  the  medium 
of  his  child,  —  throwing  the  poor  little  fellow  out  as  a 
bait,  while  he  himself  retained  his  independent  respect 
ability.  He  had  probably  come  out  for  a  whole  day's 
sport ;  for,  by  and  by,  he  went  between  the  arches  of 
the  Coliseum,  followed  by  the  child,  and  taking  with 
him  what  looked  like  a  bottle  of  wine,  wrapped  in  a 
handkerchief. 

November  2d.  —  The  weather  lately  would  have 
suited  one's  ideal  of  an  English  November,  except 
that  there  have  been  no  fogs ;  but  of  ugly,  hopeless 
clouds,  chill,  shivering  winds,  drizzle,  and  now  and 
then  pouring  rain,  much  more  than  enough.  An 
English  coal  fire,  if  we  could  see  its  honest  face 
within  doors,  would  compensate  for  all  the  unami- 
ableness  of  the  outside  atmosphere ;  but  we  might 
ask  for  the  sunshine  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  with  as 
much  hope  of  getting  it.  It  is  extremely  spirit- 
crushing,  this  remorseless  gray,  with  its  icy  heart  ; 

and  the  more  to  depress  the  whole  family,  U 

has  taken  what  seems  to  be  the  Roman  fever,  by 
sitting  down  in  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars,  while  Mrs. 
S sketched  the  ruins 

[During  four  months  of  the  illness  of  his  daughter, 
Mr.  Hawthorne  wrote  no  word  of  Journal.  —  ED.] 

February  27th,  1859.  —  For  many  days  past,  there 
have  been  tokens  of  the  coming  Carnival  in  the  Corso 
and  the  adjacent  streets;  for  example,  in  the  shops, 


222  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

by  the  display  of  masks  of  wire,  pasteboard,  silk,  or 
cloth,  some  of  beautiful  features,  others  hideous, 
fantastic,  currish,  asinine,  huge-nosed,  or  otherwise 
monstrous ;  some  intended  to  cover  the  whole  face, 
others  concealing  only  the  upper  part,  also  white 
dominos,  or  robes  bedizened  with  gold -lace  and 
theatric  splendors,  displayed  at  the  windows  of 
mercers  or  flaunting  before  the  doors.  Yesterday, 

U and  I  came  along  the  Corso,  between  one  and 

two  o'clock,  after  a  walk,  and  found  all  these  symp 
toms  of  impending  merriment  multiplied  and  intensi 
fied  ;  .  .  .  .  rows  of  chairs,  set  out  along  the  side 
walks,  elevated  a  foot  or  two  by  means  of  planks; 
great  baskets,  full  of  confetti,  for  sale  in  the  nooks 
and  recesses  of  the  streets ;  bouquets  of  all  qualities 
and  prices.  The  Corso  was  becoming  pretty  well 
thronged  with  people ;  but,  until  two  o'clock,  nobody 
dared  to  fling  as  much  as  a  rosebud  or  a  handful  of 
sugar-plums.  There  was  a  sort  of  holiday  expression 
however,  on  almost  everybody's  face,  such  as  I  have 
not  hitherto  seen  in  Rome,  or  in  any  part  of  Italy ;  a 
smile  gleaming  out,  an  aurora  of  mirth,  which  prob 
ably  will  not  be  very  exuberant  in  its  noontide. 
The  day  was  so  sunny  and  bright  that  it  made  this 
opening  scene  far  more  cheerful  than  any  day  of  the 
last  year's  carnival.  As  we  threaded  our  way  through 

the  Corso,  U kept  wishing  she  could  plunge  into 

the  fun  and  uproar  as  J would,  and  for  my  own 

part,  though  I  pretended  to  take  no  interest  in  the 
matter,  I  could  have  bandied  confetti  ajd  nosegays 
as  readily  and  as  riotously  as  any  urchin  there.  But 


1859.]  ITALY.  223 

my  black  hat  and  grave  talma  would  have  been  too 
good  a  mark  for  the  combatants,  ....  so  we  went 
home  before  a  shot  was  fired 

March  1th.  —  I,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  family, 
have  followed  up  the  Carnival  pretty  faithfully,  and 
enjoyed  it  as  well,  or  rather  better  than  could  have 
been  expected ;  principally  in  the  street,  as  a  mere 
looker-on,  —  which  does  not  let  one  into  the  mystery 
of  the  fun,  —  and  twice  from  a  balcony,  where  I  threw 
confetti,  and  partly  understood  why  the  young  people 
like  it  so  much.  Certainly,  there  cannot  well  be  a 
more  picturesque  spectacle  in  human  life,  than  that 
stately,  palatial  avenue  of  the  Corso,  the  more  pic 
turesque  because  so  narrow,  all  hung  with  carpets 
and  Gobelin  tapestry,  and  the  whole  palace-heights 
alive  with  faces ;  and  all  the  capacity  of  the  street 
thronged  with  the  most  fantastic  figures  that  either 
the  fancies  of  folks  alive  at  this  day  are  able  to  con 
trive,  or  that  live  traditionally  from  year  to  year. 
....  The  Prince  of  Wales  has  fought  manfully 
through  the  Carnival  with  confetti  and  bouquets,  and 
U received  several  bouquets  from  him,  on  Satur 
day,  as  her  carriage  moved  along. 

March  Sth. —  I  went  with  U to  Mr.  Motley's 

balcony,  hi  the  Corso,  and  saw  the  Carnival  from  it 
yesterday  afternoon ;  but  the  spectacle  is  strangely 
like  a  dream,  in  respect  to  the  difficulty  of  retaining 
it  in  the  mind  and  solidifying  it  into  a  description. 
I  enjoyed  it  a  good  deal,  and  assisted  in  so  far  as  to 
pelt  all  the  people  in  cylinder  hats  with  handsful  of 
confetti.  The  scene  opens  with  a  long  array  of  cavalry, 


224  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

who  ride  through  the  Corso,  preceded  by  a  large  band, 

playing   loudly  on   their   brazen    instruments 

There  were  some  splendid  dresses,  particularly  con- 
tadina  costumes  of  scarlet  and  gold,  which  seem  to  be 
actually  the  festal  attire  of  that  class  of  people,  and 
must  needs  be  so  expensive  that  one  must  serve  for  a 

lifetime,  if  indeed  it  be  not  an  inheritance 

March  $th.  —  I  was,  yesterday,  an  hour  or  so  among 
the  people  on  the  sidewalks  of  the  Corso,  just  on  the 
edges  of  the  fun.  They  appeared  to  be  in  a  decorous, 
good-natured  mood,  neither  entering  into  the  merri 
ment,  nor  harshly  repelling ;  and  when  groups  of 
maskers  overflowed  among  them,  they  received  their 
jokes  in  good  part.  Many  women  of  the  lower  class 
were  in  the  crowd  of  bystanders  ;  generally  broad  and 
sturdy  figures,  clad  evidently  in  their  best  attire, 
and  wearing  a  good  many  ornaments ;  such  as  gold  or 
coral  beads  and  necklaces,  combs  of  silver  or  gold, 
heavy  ear-rings,  curiously  wrought  brooches,  perhaps 
cameos  or  mosaics,  though  I  think  they  prefer  purely 
metallic  work  to  these.  One  ornament  very  common 
among  them  is  a  large  bodkin,  which  they  stick 
through  their  hair.  It  is  usually  of  silver,  but  some 
times  it  looks  like  steel,  and  is  made  in  the  shape  of  a 
sword,  —  a  long  Spanish  thrusting-sword,  for  example. 
Dr.  Franco  told  us  a  story  of  a  woman  of  Trnstevere, 
who  was  addressed  rudely  at  the  Carnival  by  a  gentle- 
man  ;  she  warned  him  to  desist,  but  as  he  still  per 
sisted,  she  drew  the  bodkin  from  her  hair,  and  stabbed 
him  to  the  heart. 
.  By  and  by  I  went  to  Mr.  Motley's  balcony,  and 


1859.]  ITALY.  225 

looked  down  on  ttie  closing  scenes  of  the  Carnival. 
Methought  the  merry-makers  labored  harder  to  be 
mirthful,  and  yet  were  somewhat  tired  of  their  eight 
play-days ;  and  their  dresses  looked  a  little  shabby, 
rumpled,  and  draggled ;  but  the  lack  of  sunshine  — 
which  we  have  had  on  all  the  preceding  days  —  may 
have  produced  this  effect.  The  wheels  of  some  of  the 
carriages  were  wreathed  round  and  spoked  with  green 
foliage,  making  a  very  pretty  and  fanciful  appearance, 
as  did  likewise  the  harnesses  of  the  horses,  which  were 
trimmed  with  roses.  The  pervading  noise  and  uproar 
of  human  voices  is  one  of  the  most  effective  points  of 
the  matter ;  but  the  scene  is  quite  indescribable,  and 
its  effect  not  to  be  conceived  without  both  witnessing 
and  taking  part  in  it.  If  you  merely  look  at  it,  it  de 
presses  you ;  if  you  take  even  the  slightest  share  in  it, 
you  become  aware  that  it  has  a  fascination,  and  you 
no  longer  wonder  that  the  young  people,  at  least,  take 
such  delight  in  plunging  into  this  mad  river  of  fun 
that  goes  roaring  between  the  narrow  limits  of  the 
Corso. 

As  twilight  came  on,  the  moccoli  commenced,  and, 
as  it  grew  darker,  the  whole  street  twinkled  with 
lights,  which  would  have  been  innumerable  if  every 
torch-bearer  had  not  been  surrounded  by  a  host  of 
enemies,  who  tried  to  extinguish  his  poor  little 
twinkle.  It  was  a  pity  to  lose  so  much  splendor  as 
there  might  have  been  ;  but  yet  there  was  a  kind  of 
symbolism  in  the  thought  that  every  one  of  those 
thousands  of  twinkling  Alights  was  in  charge  of  some 
body,  who  was  striving  with  all  his  might  to  keep  it 
10*  o 


226  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

alive.  Not  merely  the  street-way,  but  all  the  bal 
conies  and  hundreds  of  windows  were  lit  up  with  these 
little  torches  ;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  stars  had 
crumbled  into  glittering  fragments,  and  rained  down 
upon  the  Corso,  some  of  them  lodging  upon  the  palace- 
fronts,  some  falling  on  the  ground.  Besides  this, 
there  were  gas-lights  burning  with  a  white  flame  ;  but 
this  illumination  was  not  half  so  interesting  as  that  of 
the  torches,  which  indicated  human  struggle.  All 
this  time  there  were  myriad  voices  shouting,  "  SENZA 
MOCCOLO  ! "  and  mingling  into  one  long  roar.  We,  in 
our  balcony,  carried  on  a  civil  war  against-  one  an 
other's  torches,  as  is  the  custom  of  human  beings, 
within  even  the  narrowest  precincts  ;  but  after  a  while 
we  grew  tired,  and  so  did  the  crowd,  apparently ;  for 
the  lights  vanished,  one  after  another,  till  the  gas 
lights —  which  at  first  were  an  unimportant  part  of 
the  illumination  —  shone  quietly  out,  overpowering 
the  scattered  twinkles  of  the  moccoli.  They  were 
what  the  fixed  stars  are  to  the  transitory  splendors  of 
human  life. 

Mr.  Motley  tells  me,  that  it  was  formerly  the  cus 
tom  to  have  a  mock  funeral  of  Harlequin,  who  was 
supposed  to  die  at  the  close  of  the  Carnival,  during 
which  he  had  reigned  supreme,  and  all  the  people,  or 
as  many  as  chose,  bore  torches  at  his  burial.  But 
this  being  considered  an  indecorous  mockery  of 
Popish  funereal  customs,  the  present  frolic  of  the 
moccoli  was  instituted,  —  in  some  sort,  growing  out 
of  it. 

All  last  night,  or  as  much  of  it  as  I  was  awake, 


1859.]  ITALY.  227 

there  was  a  noise  of  song  and  late  revellers  in  the 
streets ;  but  to-day  we  have  waked  up  in  the  sad  and 
sober  season  of  Lent. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  all  the  jollity  of  the 
Carnival  is  a  genuine  ebullition  of  spirit,  without  the 
aid  of  wine  or  strong  drink. 

March  llth.  —  Yesterday  we  went  to  the  Catacomb 
of  St.  Calixtus,  the  entrance  to  which  is  alongside  of 
the  Appian  Way,  within  sight  of  the  tomb  of  Cecilia 
Metella.  We  descended  not  a  very  great  way  under 
ground,  by  a  broad  flight  of  stone  steps,  and,  lighting 
some  wax  tapers,  with  which  we  had  provided  our 
selves,  we  followed  the  guide  through  a  great  many 
intricate  passages,  which  mostly  were  just  wide 
enough  for  me  to  touch  the  wall  on  each  side,  while 
keeping  my  elbows  close  to  my  body ;  and  as  to 
height,  they  were  from  seven  to  ten  feet,  and  some 
times  a  good  deal  higher It  was  rather  pic 
turesque,  when  we  saw  the  long  line  of  our  tapers, 
for  another  large  party  had  joined  us,  twinkling 
along  the  dark  passage,  and  it  was  interesting  to  think 

of  the  former  inhabitants  of  these  caverns In 

one  or  two  places  there  was  the  round  mark  in  the 
stone  or  plaster,  where  a  bottle  had  been  deposited. 
This  was  said  to  have  been  the  token  of  a  martyr's 
burial-place,  and  to  have  contained  his  blood.  After 
leaving  the  Catacomb,  we  drove  onward  to  Cecilia 
Metella's  tomb,  which  we  entered  and  inspected. 
Within  the  immensely  massive  circular  substance  of 
the  tomb  was  a  round,  vacant  space,  and  this  inte 
rior  vacancy  was  open  at  the  top,  and  had  nothing 


228  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

but  some  fallen  stones  and  a  heap  of  earth  at  the  bot 
tom. 

On  our  way  home  we  entered  the  Church  of 
"  Domine,  quo  Vadis,"  and  looked  at  the  old  frag 
ment  of  the  Appian  Way,  where  our  Saviour  met  St. 
Peter,  and  left  the  impression  of  his  feet  in  one  of  the 
Roman  paving-stones.  The  stone  has  been  removed, 
and  there  is  now  only  a  fac-simile  engraved  in  a 
block  of  marble,  occupying  the  place  where  Jesus 
stood.  It  is  a  great  pity  they  had  not  left  the 
original  stone  ;  for  then  all  its  brother-stones  in  the 
pavement  would  have  seemed  to  confirm  the  truth  of 
the  legend. 

While  we  were  at  dinner,  a  gentleman  called  and 
was  shown  into  the  parlor.  We  supposed  it  to  be 
Mr.  May ;  but  soon  his  voice  grew  familiar,  and  my 
wife  was  sure  it  was  General  Pierce,  so  I  left  the 
table,  and  found  it  to  be  really  he.  I  was  rejoiced  to 
see  him,  though  a  little  saddened  to  see  the  marks  of 
care  and  coming  age,  in  many  a  whitening  hair,  and 
many  a  furrow,  and,  still  more,  in  something  that 
seemed  to  have  passed  away  out  of  him,  without 
leaving  any  trace.  His  voice,  sometimes,  sounded 
strange  and  old,  though  generally  it  was  what  it  used 
to  be.  He  was  evidently  glad  to  see  me,  glad  to  see 
my  wife,  glad  to  see  the  children,  though  there  was 
something  melancholy  in  his  tone,  when  he  remarked 

what  a  stout  boy  J had  grown.  Poor  fellow  !  he 

has  neither  son  nor  daughter  to  keep  his  heart  warm. 
This  morning  I  have  been  with  him  to  J3t.  Peter's, 
and  elsewhere  about  the  city,  and  find  him  less 


1859]  ITALY.  229 

changed  than  he  seemed  to  be  last  night ;  not  at 
all  changed  in  heart  and  affections.  We  talked  freely 
about  all  matters  that  came  up ;  among  the  rest, 
about,  the  project  —  recognizable  by  many  tokens — * 
for  bringing  him  again  forward  as  a  candidate  for  the 
Presidency  next  year.  He  appears  to  be  firmly  re 
solved  not  again  to  present  himself  to  the  country, 
and  is  content  to  let  his  one  administration  stand, 
and  to  be  judged  by  the  public  and  posterity  on  the 
merits  of  that.  No  doubt,  he  is  perfectly  sincere ;  no 
doubt,  too,  he  would  again  be  a  candidate,  if  a  pretty 
unanimous  voice  of  the  party  should  demand  it.  I 
retain  all  my  faith  in  his  administrative  faculty,  and 
should  be  glad,  for  his  sake,  to  have  it  fully  recog 
nized;  but  the  probabilities,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  do 
not  indicate  for  him  another  Presidential  term. 

March  15th.  —  This  morning  I  went  with  my  wife 
and  Miss  Hoar  to  Miss  Hosmer's  studio,  to  see  her 
statue  of  Zenobia.  We  found  her  in  her  premises, 
springing  about  with  a  bird-like  action.  '  She  has  a 
lofty  room,  with  a  skylight  window ;  it  was  pretty 
well  warmed  with  a  stove,  and  there  was  a  small 
orange-tree  in  a  pot,  with  the  oranges  growing  on  it, 
and  two  or  three  flower-shrubs  in  bloom.  She  her 
self  looked  prettily,  with  her  jaunty  little  velvet  cap 
on  the  side  of  her  head,  whence  came  clustering  out 
her  short  brown  curls ;  her  face  full  of  pleasant  life 
and  quick  expression ;  and  though  somewhat  worn 
with  thought  and  struggle,  handsome  and  spirited. 
She  told  us  that  "  her  wig  was  growing  as  gray  as  a 
rat." 


230  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1853. 

There  were  but  very  few  things  in  the  room ;  two 
or  three  plaster-busts,  a  headless  cast  of  a  plaster 
statue,  and  a  cast  of  the  Minerva  Medica,  which  per 
haps  she  had  been  studying  as  a  help  towards  the 
design  of  her  Zenobia;  for,  at  any  rate,  I  seemed  to 
discern  a  resemblance  or  analogy  between  the  two. 
Zenobia  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  as  yet  un 
finished  in  the  clay,  but  a  very  noble  and  remarkable 
statue  indeed,  full  of  dignity  and  beauty.  It  is  won 
derful  that  so  brisk  a  woman  could  have  achieved  a 
work  so  quietly  impressive ;  and  there  is  something  in 
Zenobia's  air  that  conveys  the  idea  of  music,  uproar, 
and  a  great  throng  all  about  her ;  whilst  she  walks 
in  the  midst  of  it,  self-sustained,  and  kept  in  a  sort  of 
sanctity  by  her  native  pride.  The  idea  of  motion  is 
attained  with  great  success ;  you  not  only  perceive 
that  she  is  walking,  but  know  at  just  what  tranquil 
pace  she  steps,  amid  the  music  of  the  triumph.  The 
drapery  is  ,very  fine  and  full ;  she  is  decked  with 
ornaments  ;  but  the  chains  of  her  captivity  hang  from 
wrist  to  wrist ;  and  her  deportment  —  indicating  a 
soul  so  much  above  her  misfortune,  yet  not  insensible 
to  the  weight  of  it  —  makes  these  chains  a  richer 
decoration  than  all  her  other  jewels.  I  know  not 
whether  there  be  some  magic  in  the  present  im 
perfect  finish  of  the  statue,  or  in  the  material  of  clay, 
as  being  a  better  medium  of  expression  than  even 
marble;  but  certainly  I  have  seldom  been  more  im 
pressed  by  a  piece  of  modern  sculpture.  Miss  Hos- 
mer  showed  us  photography  of  her  PUCK  —  which  I 
have  seen  in  the  marble  —  and  likewise  of  the  Will- 


1859.]  ITALY.  231 

o'-the-Wisp,  both  very  pretty  and  fanciful.  It  indi 
cates  much  variety  of  power,  that  Zenobia  should  be 
the  sister  of  these,  which  would  seem  the  more  nat 
ural  offspring  of  her  quick  and  vivid  character.  But 
Zenobia  is  a  high,  heroic  ode. 

....  On  my  way  up  the  Via  Babuino,  I  met 
General  Pierce.  We  have  taken  two  or  three  walks 
together,  and  stray  among  the  Roman  ruins,  and  old 
scenes  of  history,  talking  of  matters  in  which  he  is 
personally  concerned,  yet  which  are  as  historic  as 
anything  around  us.  He  is  singularly  little  changed ; 
the  more  I  see  him,  the  more  I  get  him  back,  just 
such  as  he  was  in  our  youth.  This  morning,  his 
face,  air,  and  smile  were  so  wonderfully  like  himself 
of  old,  that  at  least  thirty  years  are  annihilated. 

Zenobia' s  manacles  serve  as  bracelets;  a  very  in 
genious  and  suggestive  idea. 

March  IStk.  —  I  went  to  the  sculpture-gallery  of 
the  Capitol  yesterday,  and  saw,  among  other  things, 
the  Venus  in  her  secret  cabinet.  This  was  my  second 
view  of  her :  the  first  time,  I  greatly  admired  her ; 
now,  she  made  no  very  favorable  impression.  There 
are  twenty  Venuses  whom  I  like  as  well,  or  better. 
On  the  whole,  she  is  a  heavy,  clumsy,  unintellectual, 
and  commonplace  figure ;  at  all  events,  not  in  good 
looks  to-day.  Marble  beauties  seem  to  suffer  the 
same  occasional  eclipses  as  those  of  flesh  and  blood. 
We  looked  at  the  Faun,  the  Dying  Gladiator,  and 
other  famous  sculptures ;  but  nothing  had  a  glory 
round  it,  perhaps  because  the  sirocco  was  blowing. 
These  halls  of  the  Capitol  have  always  had  a  dreary 


232  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

and  depressing  effect  upon  me,  very  different  from 
those  of  the  Vatican.  I  know  not  why,  except  that 
the  rooms  of  the  Capitol  have  a  dingy,  shabby,  and 
neglected  look,  and  that  the  statues  are  dusty,  and 
all  the  arrangements  less  magnificent  than  at  the 
Vatican.  The  corroded  and  discolored  surfaces  of  the 
statues  take  away  from  the  impression  of  immortal 
youth,  and  turn  Apollo'1'  himself  into  an  old  stone; 
unless  at  rare  intervals,  when  he  appears  transfigured 
by  a  light  gleaming  from  within. 

March  23c7.  —  I  am  wearing  away  listlessly  these 

last  precious  days  of  my  abode  in  Rome.  U 's 

illness  is  disheartening,  and  by  confining  ,  it 

takes  away  the  energy  and  enterprise  that  were  the 
spring  of  all  our  movements.  I  am  weary  of  Rome, 
without  having  seen  and  known  it  as  I  ought,  and  I 
shall  be  glad  to  get  away  from  it,  though  no  doubt 
there  will  be  many  yearnings  to  return  hereafter,  and 
many  regrets  that  I  did  not  make  better  use  of  the 
opportunities  within  my  grasp.  Still,  I  have  been  in 
Rome  long  enough  to  be  imbued  with  its  atmosphere, 
and  this  is  the  essential  condition  of  knowing  a  place ; 
for  such  knowledge  does  not  consist  in  having  seen 
every  particular  object  it  contains.  In  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  I  now  stand  towards  Rome,  there  is 
very  little  advantage  to  be  gained  by  staying  here 
longer. 

And  yet  I  had  a  pleasant  stroll  enough  yesterday 
afternoon,  all  by  myself,  from  the  Corso  down  past 
the  Church  of  St.  Andrea  della  Valle,  —  the  site  where 

*  The  Lyciau  Apollo. 


1859.]  ITALY.  233 

Csesar  was  murdered,  —  and  thence  to  the  Farnese 
Palace,  the  noble  court  of  which  I  entered ;  thence  to 
the  Piazza  Cenci,  where  I  looked  at  one  or  two  ugly 
old  palaces,  and  fixed  on  one  of  them  as  the  residence 
of  Beatrice's  father ;  then  past  the  Temple  of  Vesta, 
and  skirting  along  the  Tiber,  and  beneath  the  Aven- 
tine,  till  I  somewhat  unexpectedly  came  in  sight  of 
the  gray  pyramid  of  Caius  Cestius.  I  went  out  of  the 
city  gate,  and  leaned  on  the  parapet  that  encloses  the 
pyramid,  advancing  its  high,  unbroken  slope  and 
peak,  where  the  great  blocks  of  marble  still  fit  almost 
as  closely  to  one  another  as  when  they  were  first  laid ; 
though,  indeed,  there  are  crevices  just  large  enough 
for  plants  to  root  themselves,  and  flaunt  and  trail  over 
the  face  of  this  great  tomb;  only  a  little  verdure 
however,  over  a  vast  space  of  marble,  still  white  in 
spots,  but  pervadingly  turned  gray  by  two  thousand 
years'  action  of  the  atmosphere.  Thence  I  came 
home  by  the  Ccelian,  and  sat  down  on  an  ancient 
flight  of  steps  under  one  of  the  arches  of  the  Coliseum, 
into  which  the  sunshine  fell  sidelong.  It  was  a  de 
lightful  afternoon,  not  precisely  like  any  weather  that 
I  have  known  elsewhere ;  certainly  never  in  America, 
where  it  is  always  too  cold  or  too  hot.  It  resembles 
summer  more  than  anything  which  we  New-England- 
ers  recognize  in  our  idea  of  spring,  but  there  was  an 
indescribable  something,  sweet,  fresh,  gentle,  that  does 
not  belong  to  summer,  and  that  thrilled  and  tickled  my 
heart  with  a  feeling  partly  sensuous,  partly  spiritual. 

I   go   to   the    Banlv   and    read    Galignani  and  the 
American  newspapers ;  thence  I  stroll  to  the  Piucian 


234  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

or  to  the  Medici  Gardens  ;  I  see  a  good  deal  of  Gen 
eral  Pierce,  and  we  talk  over  his  Presidential  life, 
which,  I  now  really  think,  he  has  no  latent  desire  nor 
purpose  to  renew.  Yet  he  seems  to  have  enjoyed  it 
while  it  lasted,  and  certainly  he  was  in  his  element  as 
an  administrative  man ;  not  far-seeing,  not  possessed 
of  vast  stores  of  political  wisdom  in  advance  of  his 
occasions,  but  endowed  with  a  miraculous  intuition  of 
what  ought  to  be  done  just  at  the  time  for  action. 
His  judgment  of  things  about  him  is  wonderful,  and 
his  Cabinet  recognized  it  as  such ;  for  though  they 
were  men  of  great  ability,  he  was  evidently  the  master 
mind  among  them.  None  of  them  were  particularly 
his  personal  friends  when  he  selected  them  ;  they  all 
loved  him  when  they  parted ;  and  he  showed  me  a 
letter,  signed  by  all,  in  which  they  expressed  their 
feelings  of  respect  and  attachment  at  the  close  of  his 
administration.  There  was  a  noble  frankness  on  his 
part,  that  kept  the  atmosphere  always  clear  among 
them,  and  in  reference  to  this  characteristic  Governor 
Marcy  told  him  that  the  years  during  which  he  had 
been  connected  with  his  Cabinet  had  been  the  happiest 
of  his  life.  Speaking  of  Caleb  Gushing,  he  told  me 
that  the  unreliability,  the  fickleness,  which  is  usually 
attributed  to  him  is  an  actual  characteristic,  but  that 
it  is  intellectual,  not  moral.  He  has  such  comprehen 
siveness,  such  mental  variety  and  activity,  that,  if 
left  to  himself,  he  cannot  keep  fast  hold  of  one  view 
of  things,  and  so  cannot,  without  external  help,  be  a 
consistent  man.  He  needs  the  influence  of  a  more 
single  and  stable  judgment  to  keep  him  from  diver- 


1859.]  ITALY.  235 

gency,  and,  on  this  condition,  he  is  a  most  inestimable 
coadjutor.  As  regards  learning  and  ability,  he  has  no 
superior. 

Pierce  spoke  the  other  day  of  the  idea  among  some 
of  his  friends  that  his  life  had  been  planned  from  a 
very  early  period,  with  a  view  to  the  station  which  he 
ultimately  reached.  He  smiled  at  the  notion,  said 
that  it  was  inconsistent  with  his  natural  character, 
and  that  it  implied  foresight  and  dexterity  beyond 
what  any  mortal  is  endowed  with.  I  think  so  too; 
but  nevertheless,  I  was  long  and  long  ago  aware  that 
he  cherished  a  very  high  ambition,  and  that,  though 
he  might  not  anticipate  .the  highest  things,  he  cared 
very  little  about  inferior  objects.  Then  as  to  plans,  I 
do  not  think  that  he  had  any  definite  ones  ;  but  there 
was  in  him  a  subtle  faculty,  a  real  instinct,  that  taught 
him  what  was  good  for  him,  —  that  is  to  say,  promotive 
of  his  political  success,  —  and  made  him  inevitably  do 
it.  He  had  a  magic  touch,  that  arranged  matters 
with  a  delicate  potency,  which  he  himself  hardly 
recognized ;  and  he  wrought  through  other  minds  so 
that  neither  he  nor  they  always  knew  when  and  how- 
far  they  were  under  his  influence.  Before  his  nomi 
nation  for  the  Presidency  I  had  a  sense  that  it  was 
coming,  and  it  never  seemed  to  me  an  accident.  He 
is  a  most  singular  character ;  so  frank,  so  true,  so  im 
mediate,  so  subtle,  so  simple,  so  complicated. 

I  passed  by  the  tower  in  the  Via  Portoghese  to 
day,  and  observed  that  the  nearest  shop  appears  to 

be  for  the  sale  of  cotton  or  linen  cloth The 

upper  window  of  the  tower  was  half  open ;  of  course, 


236  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

like  all  or  almost  all  other  Roman  windows,  it  is 
divided  vertically,  and  each  half  swings  back  on 

hinges 

Last  week  a  fritter  establishment  was  opened  in  our 
piazza.  It  was  a  wooden  booth  erected  in  the  open 
square,  and  covered  with  canvas  painted  red,  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  withstood  much  rain  and  sunshine. 
In  front  were  three  great  boughs  of  laurel,  not  so 
much  for  shade,  I  think,  as  ornament.  There  were 
two  men,  and  their  apparatus  for  business  was  a  sort 
of  stove,  or  charcoal  furnace,  and  a  frying-pan  to  place 
over  it ;  they  had  an  armful  or  two  of  dry  sticks,  some 
flour,  and  I  suppose  oil,  and  this  seemed  to  be  all.  It 
was  Friday,  and  Lent  besides,  and  possibly  there  was 
some  other  peculiar  propriety  in  the  consumption  of 
fritters  just  then.  At  all  events,  their  fire  burned 
merrily  from  morning  till  night,  and  pretty  late  into 
the  evening,  and  they  had  a  fine  run  of  custom ;  the 
commodity  being  simply  dough,  cut  into  squares  or 
rhomboids,  and  thrown  into  the  boiling  oil,  which 
quickly  turned  them  to  a  light  brown  color.  I  sent 

J to  buy  some,  and,  tasting  one,  it  resembled  an 

unspeakably  bad  doughnut,  without  any  sweetening. 
In  fact,  it  was  sour,  for  the  Romans  like  their  bread, 
and  all  their  preparations  of  flour,  in  a  state  of  acetous 
fermentation,  which  serves  them  instead  of  salt  or 
other  condiment.  This  fritter-shop  had  grown  up  in 
a  night,  like  Aladdin's  palace,  and  vanished  as  sud 
denly  •  for  after  standing  through  Friday,  Saturday, 
and  Sunday,  it  was  gone  on  Monday  morning,  and  a 
charcoal-strewn  place  on  the  pavement  where  the  fur- 


1859.]  ITALY.  237 

nace  had  been  was  the  only  memorial  of  it.  It  was 
carious  to  observe  how  immediately  it  became  a  loun- 
ging-place  for  idle  people,  who  stood  and  talked  all 
day  with  the  fritter-friers,  just  as  they  might  at  any 
old  shop  in  the  basement  of  a  palace,  or  between  the 
half-buried  pillars  of  the  Temple  of  Minerva,  which 
had  been  familiar  to  them  and  their  remote  grand 
fathers. 

April  14^/i. — Yesterday  afternoon  I  drove  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Story  and  Mr.  Wilde  to  see  a  statue  of 
Venus,  which  has  just  been  discovered,  outside  of  the 
Porta  Portese,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tiber.  A 
little  distance  beyond  the  gate  we  came  to  the 
entrance  of  a  vineyard,  with  a  wheel-track  through 
the  midst  of  it ;  and,  following  this,  we  soon  came  to 
a  hillside,  in  which  an  excavation  had  been  made 
with  the  purpose  of  building  a  grotto  for  keeping  and 
storing  wine.  They  had  dug  down  into  what  seemed 
to  be  an  ancient  bath-room,  or  some  structure  of  that 
kind,  the  excavation  being  square  and  cellar-like, 
and  built  round  with  old  subterranean  walls  of  brick 
and  stone.  Within  this  hollow  space  the  statue  had 
been  found,  and  it  was  now  standing  against  one  of 
the  walls,  covered  with  a  coarse  cloth,  or  a  canvas 
bag.  This  being  removed,  there  appeared  a  headless 
marble  figure,  earth-stained,  of  course,  and  with  a 
slightly  corroded  surface,  but  wonderfully  delicate 
and  beautiful,  the  shape,  size,  and  attitude,  appar 
ently,  of  the  Venus  di  Medici,  but,  as  we  all  thought, 
more  beautiful  than  that.  It  is  supposed  to  be* the 
original,  from  which  the  Venus  di  Medici  was  copied. 


238  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

Both  arms  were  broken  off,  but  the  greater  part  of 
both,  and  nearly  the  whole  of  one  hand,  had  been 
found,  and  these  being  adjusted  to  the  figure,  they 
took  the  well-known  position  before  the  bosom  and 
the  middle,  as  if  the  fragmentary  woman  retained  her 
instinct  of  modesty  to  the  last.  There  were  the 
marks  on  the  bosom  and  thigh  where  the  fingers  had 
touched  ;  whereas  in  the  Venus  di  Medici,  if  I  re 
member  rightly,  the  fingers  are  sculptured  quite  free 
of  the  person.  The  man  who  showed  the  statue  now 
lifted  from  a  corner  a  round  block  of  marble,  which 
had  been  lying  there  among  other  fragments,  and 
this  he  placed  upon  the  shattered  neck  of  the  Venus ; 
and  behold,  it  was  her  head  and  face,  perfect,  all  but 
the  nose  !  Even  in  spite  of  this  mutilation,  it  seemed 
immediately  to  light  up  and  vivify  the  entire  figure  ; 
and,  whatever  I  may  heretofore  have  written  about 
the  countenance  of  the  Venus  di  Medici,  I  here  record 
my  belief  that  that  head  has  been  wrongfully  foisted 
upon  the  statue ;  at  all  events,  it  is  unspeakably 
inferior  to  this  newly  discovered  one.  This  face  has 
a,  breadth  and  front  which  are  strangely  deficient  in 
the  other.  The  eyes  are  well  opened,  most  unlike 
the  buttonhole  lids  of  the  Venus  di  Medici ;  the 
whole  head  is  so  much  larger  as  to  entirely  obviate 
the  criticism  that  has  always  been  made  on  the 
diminutive  head  of  the  Di  Medici  statue.  If  it  had 
but  a  nose  !  They  ought  to  sift  every  handful  of 
earth  that  has  been  thrown  out  of  the  excavation,  for 
the  nose  and  the  missing  hand  and  "fingers  must 
needs  be  there;  and,  if  they  were  found,  the  effect 


1859.]  ITALY.  239 

would  be  like  the  reappearance  of  a  divinity  upon 
earth.  Mutilated  as  we  saw  her,  it  was  strangely 
interesting  to  be  present  at  the  moment,  as  it  were, 
when  she  had  just  risen  from  her  long  burial,  and 
was  shedding  the  unquenchable  lustre  around  her 
which  no  eye  had  seen  for  twenty  or  more  centuries. 
The  earth  still  clung  about  her ;  her  beautiful  lips 
were  full  of  it,  till  Mr.  Story  took  a  thin  chip  of  wood 
and  cleared  it  away  from  between  them. 

The  proprietor  of  the  vineyard  stood  by ;  a  man 
with  the  most  purple  face  and  hugest  and  reddest 
nose  that  I  ever  beheld  in  my  life.  It  must  have 
taken  innumerable  hogsheads  of  his  thin  vintage  to 
empurple  his  face  in  this  manner.  He  chuckled 
much  over  the  statue,  and,  I  suppose,  counts  upon 
making  his  fortune  by  it.  He  is  now  awaiting  a  bid 
from  the  Papal  government,  which,  I  believe,  haa 
the  right  of  pre-emption  whenever  any  relics  of  ancient 
art  are  discovered.  If  the  statue  could  but  be  smug 
gled  out  of  Italy,  it  might  command  almost  any  price. 
There  is  not,  I  think,  any  name  of  a  sculptor  on  the 
pedestal,  as  on  that  of  the  Venus  di  Medici.  A 
dolphin  is  sculptured  on  the  pillar  against  which  she 
leans.  The  statue  is  of  Greek  marble.  It  was  first 
found  about  eight  days  ago,  but  has  been  offered  for 
inspection  only  a  day  or  two,  and  already  the  visitors 
come  in  throngs,  and  the  beggars  gather  about  the 
entrance  of  the  vineyard.  A  wine-shop,  too,  seems 
to  have  been  opened  on  the  premises  for  the  accom 
modation  of  this  great  concourse,  and  we  saw  a  row 
of  German  artists  sitting  at  a  long  table  in  the  open 


240  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

air,  each  with  a  glass  of  thin  wine  and  something  to 
eat  before  him ;  for  the  Germans  refresh  nature  ten 
times  to  other  persons  once. 

How  the  whole  world  might  be  peopled  with  antique 
beauty  if  the  Ilomans  would  only  dig ! 

April  IQtk.  —  General  Pierce  leaves  Rome  this 
morning  for  Venice,  by  way  of  Ancona,  and  taking 
the  steamer  thence  to  Trieste.  I  had  hoped  to  make 

the  journey  along  with  him;  but  U 's  terrible 

illness  has  made  it  necessary  for  us  to  continue  here 
another  month,  and  we  are  thankful  that  this  seems 
now  to  be  the  extent  of  our  misfortune.  Never 
having  had  any  trouble  before  that  pierced  into  my 
very  vitals,  I  did  not  know  what  comfort  there  might 
be  in  the  manly  sympathy  of  a  friend  ;  but  Pierce  has 
undergone  so  great  a  sorrow  of  his  own,  and  has  so 
.  large  and  kindly  a  heart,  and  is  so  tender  and  so 
strong,  that  he  really  did  me  good,  and  I  shall  always 
love  him  the  better  for  the  recollection  of  his  minis 
trations  in  these  dark  days.  Thank  God,  the  thing 
we  dreaded  did  not  come  to  pass. 

Pierce  is  wonderfully  little  changed.  Indeed,  now 
that  he  has  won  and  enjoyed  —  if  there  were  any 
enjoyment  in  it  —  the  highest  success  that  public  life 
could  give  him,  he  seems  more  like  what  he  was  in 
his  early  youth  than  at  any  subsequent  period.  Ho 
is  evidently  happier  than  I  have  ever  known  him 
since  our  college  days ;  satisfied  with  what  he  has 
been,  and  with  the  position  in  the  country  that  re 
mains  to  him,  after  filling  such  an  office.  Amid  all 
his  former  successes,  —  early  as  they  came,  and  great 


1859.]  ITALY.  241 

as  they  were,  —  I  always  perceived  that  something 
gnawed  within  him,  and  kept  him  forever  restless  and 
miserable.  Nothing  he  won  was  worth  the  winning,  ex 
cept  as  a  step  gained  toward  the  summit.  I  cannot  tell 
how  early  he  began  to  look  towards  the  Presidency ; 
but  I  believe  he  would  have  died  an  unhappy  man 
without  it.  And  yet  what  infinite  chances  there 
seemed  to  be  against  his  attaining  it !  When  I  look 
at  it  in  one  way,  it  strikes  me  as  absolutely  miracu 
lous  ;  in  another,  it  came  like  an  event  that  I  had  all 
along  expected.  It  was  due  to  his  wonderful  tact, 
which  is  of  so  subtle  a  character  that  he  himself  is 
but  partially  sensible  of  it. 

I  have  found  in  him,  here  in  Rome,  the  whole  of 
my  early  friend,  and  even  better  than  I  used  to  know 
him ;  a  heart  as  true  and  affectionate,  a  mind  much 
widened  and  deepened  by  his  experience  of  life.  We 
hold  just  the  same  relation  to  each  other  as  of  yore, 
and  we  have  passed  all  the  turning-off  places,  and 
may  hope  to  go  on  together  still  the  same  dear  friends 
as  long  as  we  live.  I  do  not  love  him  one  whit  the 
less  for  having  been  President,  nor  for  having  done  me 
the  greatest  good  in  his  power;  a  fact  that  speaks 
eloquently  in  his  favor,  and  perhaps  says  a  little  for 
myself.  If  he  had  been  merely  a  benefactor,  perhaps 
I  might  not  have  borne  it  so  well ;  but  each  did  his 
best  for  the  other  as  friend  for  friend. 

May  15th.  — Yesterday  afternoon  we  went  to  the 
Barberini  picture-gallery  to  take  a  farewell  look  at 
the  Beatrice  Cenci,  which  I  have  twice  visited  before 
since  our  return  from  Florence.  I  attempted  a  de- 

VOL.  II.  11  P 


242  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

scription  of  it  at  my  first  visit,  more  than  a  year  ago, 
but  the  picture  is  quite  indescribable  and  unaccount 
able  in  its  effect,  for  if  you  attempt  to  analyze  it  you 
can  never  succeed  in  getting  at  the  secret  of  its  fasci 
nation.  Its  peculiar  expression  eludes  a  straightfor 
ward  glance,  and  can  only  be  caught  by  side  glimpses, 
or  when  the  eye  falls  upon  it  casually  as  it  were,  and 
without  thinking  to  discover  anything,  as  if  the  pic 
ture  had  a  life  and  consciousness  of  its  own,  and  were 
resolved  not  to  betray  its  secret  of  grief  or  guilt, 
though  it  wears  the  full  expression  of  it  when  it  im 
agines  itself  unseen.  I  think  no  other  such  magical 
effect  can  ever  have  been  wrought  by  pencil.  I  looked 
close  into  its  eyes,  with  a  determination  to  see  all  that 
there  was  in  them,  and  could  see  nothing  that  might 
not  have  been  in  any  young  girl's  eyes ;  and  yet,  a 
moment  afterwards,  there  was  the  expression  —  seen 
aside,  and  vanishing  in  a  moment  —  of  a  being  un- 
humanized  by  some  terrible  fate,  and  gazing  at  me 
out  of  a  remote  and  inaccessible  region,  where  she 
was  frightened  to  be  alone,  but  where  no  sympathy 
could  reach  her.  The  mouth  is  be}Tond  measure 
touching;  the  lips  apart,  looking  as  innocent  as  a 
baby's  after  it  has  been  crying.  The  picture  never 
can  be  copied.  Guido  himself  could  not  have  done  it 
over  again.  The  copyists  get  all  sorts  of  expression, 
gay  as  well  as  grievous ;  some  copies  have  a  coquet 
tish  air,  a  half-backward  glance,  thrown  alluring  at 
the  spectator,  but  nobody  ever  did  catch,  or  ever  will, 
the  vanishing  charm  of  that  sorrow.  Fhated  to  leave 
the  picture,  and  yet  was  glad  when  I  had  taken  iny 


1859.]  FRANCE.  243 

last  glimpse,  because  it  so  perplexed  and  troubled  me 
not  to  be  able  to  get  hold  of  its  secret. 

Thence  we  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Capuchins, 
and  saw  Guide's  Archangel.  I  have  been  several 
times  to  this  church,  but  never  saw  the  picture  before, 
though  I  am  familiar  with  the  mosaic  copy  at  St. 
Peter's,  and  had  supposed  the  latter  to  be  an  equiva 
lent  representation  of  the  original.  It  is  nearly  or 
quite  so  as  respects  the  general  effect ;  but  there  is  a 
beauty  in  the  archangel's  face  that  immeasurably  sur 
passes  the  copy,  —  the  expression  of  heavenly  severity, 
and  a  degree  of  pain,  trouble,  or  disgust,  at  being 
brought  in  contact  with  sin,  even  for  the  purpose  of 
quelling  and  punishing  it.  There  is  something  fini 
cal  in  the  copy,  which  I  do  not  find  in  the  original. 
The  sandalled  feet  are  here  those  of  an  angel ;  in  the 
mosaic  they  are  those  of  a  celestial  coxcomb,  treading 
daintily,  as  if  he  were  afraid  they  would  be  soiled  by 
the  touch  of  Lucifer. 

After  looking  at  the  Archangel  we  went  down 
under  the  church,  guided  by  a  fleshy  monk,  and  saw 
the  famous  cemetery,  where  the  dead  monks  of  many 
centuries  back  have  been  laid  to  sleep  in  sacred  earth 
from  Jerusalem 

FRANCE. 

Hotel  des  Colonies,  Marseilles,  May  29^,  Saturday. 
—  Wednesday  was  the  day  fixed  for  our  departure 
from  Rome,  and  after  breakfast  I  walked  to  the 
Pincian,  and  saw  the  garden  and  the  city,  and  the 
Borghese  grounds,  and  St.  Peter's  in  an  earlier  sun- 


^44  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

light  <:Lan  ever  before.  Methought  they  never  looked 
so  beautiful,  nor  the  sky  so  bright  and  blue.  I  saw 
Soracte  on  the  horizon,  and  I  looked  at  everything' 
as  if  for  the  last  time ;  nor  do  I  wish  ever  to  see  any 
of  these  objects  again,  though  no  place  ever  took  so 
strong  a  hold  of  my  being  as  Rome,  nor  ever  seemed 
so  close  to  me  and  so  strangely  familiar.  I  seem  to 
know  it  better  than  my  birthplace,  and  to  have  known 
it  longer;  and  though  I  have  been  very  miserable 
there,  and  languid  with  the  effects  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  disgusted  with  a  thousand  things  in  its  daily 
life,  still  I  cannot  say  I  hate  it,  perhaps  might  fairly 
own  a  love  for  it.  But  life  being  too  short  for  such 
questionable  and  troublesome  enjoyments,  I  desire 
never  to  set  eyes  on  it  again 

....  We  traversed  again  that  same  weary  and 
dreary  tract  of  country  which  we  passed  over  in  a 
winter  afternoon  and  night  on  our  first  arrival  in 
Rome.  It  is  as  desolate  a  country  as  can  well  be 
imagined,  but  about  midway  of  our  journey  we  came 
to  the  sea-shore,  and  kept  very  near  it  during  the 
rest  of  the  way.  The  sight  and  fragrance  of  it  were 
exceedingly  refreshing  after  so  long  an  interval,  and 

U revived  visibly  as  we  rushed  along,  while  J — 

chuckled  and  contorted  himself  with  ineffable  delight. 

\Ve  reached  Civita  Vecchia  in  three  or  four  hours, 

and  were  there  subjected  to  various  troubles 

All  the  while  Miss  S and  I  were  bothering  about 

the  passport,  the  rest  of  the  family  sat  in  the  sun  on 
the  quay,  with  all  kinds  of  bustle  and  confusion 
around  them  ;  a  very  trying  experience  to  U after 


1859.]  FRANCE.  245 

the  long  seclusion  and  quiet  of  her  sick-chamber.  But 
she  did  not  seem  to  suffer  from  it,  and  we  finally 

reached  the  steamer  in  good  condition  and  spirits 

I  slept  wretchedly  in  my  short  and  narrow  berth, 
more  especially  as  there  was  an  old  gentleman  who 
snored  as  if  he  were  sounding  a  charge;  it  was 
terribly  hot  too,  and  I  rose  before  four  o'clock,  and  was 
on  deck  amply  in  time  to  watch  the  distant  approach 
of  sunrise.  We  arrived  at  Leghorn  pretty  early,  and 
might  have  gone  ashore  and  spent  the  day.  Indeed, 
we  had  been  recommended  by  Dr.  Franco,  and  had 
fully  purposed  to  spend  a  week  or  ten  days  there,  in 

expectation  of  benefit  to  U 's  health  from  the  sea 

air  and  sea  bathing,  because  he  thought  her  still  too 
feeble  to  make  the  whole  voyage  to  Marseilles  at  a 
stretch.  But  she  showed  herself  so  strong  that  we 
thought  she  would  get  as  much  good  from  our  three 
days'  voyage  as  from  the  days  by  the  sea-shore. 
Moreover,  ....  we  all  of  us  still  felt  the  languor  of 
the  Roman  atmosphere,  and  dreaded  the  hubbub  and 

crazy  confusion  of  landing  at  an  Italian  port 

So  we  lay  in  the  harbor  all  day  without  stirring  from 
the  steamer It  would  have  been  pleasant,  how 
ever,  to  have  gone  to  Pisa,  fifteen  miles  off,  and  seen 
the  leaning  tower ;  but,  for  my  part,  I  have  arrived 
at  that  point  where  it  is  somewhat  pleasanter  to  sit 
quietly  in  any  spot  whatever  than  to  see  whatever 
grandest  or  most  beautiful  thing.  At  least  this  was 
my  mood  in  the  harbor  of  Leghorn.  From  the  deck 
of  the  steamer  there  were  many  things  visible  that 
might  have  been  interesting  to  describe  :  the  boats 


246  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

of  peculiar  rig,  and  covered  with  awning ;  the  crowded 
shipping ;  the  disembarkation  of  horses  from  the 
French  cavalry,  which  were  lowered  from  steamers 
into  gondolas  or  lighters,  and  hung  motionless,  like 
the  sign  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  during  the  transit,  only 
kicking  a  little  when  their  feet  happened  to  graze  the 
vessel's  side.  One  horse  plunged  overboard,  and  nar 
rowly  escaped  drowning.  There  was  likewise  a  disem 
barkation  of  French  soldiers  in  a  train  of  boats,  which 
rowed  shoreward  with  sound  of  trumpet.  The  French 
are  concentrating  a  considerable  number  of  troops  at 
this  point. 

Our  steamer  was  detained  by  order  of  the  French 
government  to  take  on  board  despatches;  so  that, 
instead  of  sailing  at  dusk,  as  is  customary,  we  lay  in 
the  harbor  till  seven  of  the  next  morning.  A  number 
of  young  Sardinian  officers,  in  green  uniform,  camo 
on  board,  and  a  pale  and  picturesque-looking  Italian, 
and  other  worthies  of  less  note,  —  English,  American, 
and  of  all  races,  —  among  them  a  Turk  with  a  little 
boy  in  Christian  dress ;  also  a  Greek  gentleman  with 
his  young  bride. 

At  the  appointed  time  we  weighed  anchor  for 
Genoa,  and  had  a  beautiful  day  on  the  Mediterranean, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  saw  the  real  dark 
blue  of  the  sea.  I  do  not  remember  noticing  it  on 
my  outward  voyage  to  Italy.  It  is  the  most  beautiful 
hue  that  can  be  imagined,  like  a  liquid  sky  ;  and  it 
retains  its  lustrous  blue  directly  under  the  side  of  the 
ship,  where  the  water  of  the  mid-Atlantic  looks 
greenish Wo  reached  Genoa  at  seven  in  tho 


1859.]  FRANCE.  247 

afternoon Genoa  looks  most  picturesquely  from 

the  sea,  at  the  foot  of  a  sheltering  semicircle  of 
lofty  hills;  and  as  we  lay  in  the  harbor  we  saw, 
among  other  interesting  objects,  the  great  Doria 
Palace,  with  its  gardens,  and  the  Cathedral,  and  a 
heap  and  sweep  of  stately  edifices,  with  the  moun 
tains  looking  down  upon  the  city,  and  crowned  with 
fortresses.  The  variety  of  hue  in  the  houses,  white, 
green,  pink,  and  orange,  was  very  remarkable.  It 
would  have  been  well  to  go  ashore  here  for  an  hour 
or  two  and  see  the  streets,  —  having  already  seen  the 
palaces,  churches,  and  public  buildings  at  our  former 
visit,  —  and  buy  a  few  specimens  of  Genoa  goldsmiths' 
work ;  but  I  preferred  the  steamer's  deck,  so  the 
evening  passed  pleasantly  away ;  the  two  lighthouses 
at  the  entrance  of  the  port  kindled  up  their  fires,  and 
at  nine  o'clock  the  evening  gun  thundered  from  the 
fortress,  and  was  reverberated  from  the  heights.  We 
sailed  away  at  eleven,  and  I  was  roused  from  my  first 
dleep  by  the  snortings  and  hissings  of  the  vessel  as 
she  got  under  way. 

At  Genoa  we  took  on  board  some  more  passengers, 
an  English  nobleman  with  his  lady  being  of  the 
number.  These  were  Lord  and  Lady  J ,  and  be 
fore  the  end  of  our  voyage  his  lordship  talked  to  me 
of  a  translation  of  Tasso  in  which  he  is  engaged, 
and  a  stanza  or  two  of  which  he  repeated  to  me.  I 
really  liked  the  lines,  and  liked  too  the  simplicity  and 
frankness  with  which  he  spoke  of  it  to  me  a  stranger, 
and  the  way  he  seemed  tp  separate  his  egotism  from 
tha  idea  which  he  evidently  had  that  he  is  going  to 


248  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

make  an  excellent  translation.  I  sincerely  hope  it 
may  be  so.  He  began  it  without  any  idea  of  publish 
ing  it,  or  of  ever  bringing  it  to  a  conclusion,  but 
merely  as  a  solace  and  occupation  while  in  great 
trouble  during  an  illness  of  his  wife,  but  he  has  grad 
ually  coine  to  find  it  the  most  absorbing  occupation 
he  ever  undertook ;  and  as  Mr.  Gladstone  and  other 
high  authorities  give  him  warm  encouragement,  he 
now  means  to  translate  the  entire  poem,  and  to  pub 
lish  it  with  beautiful  illustrations,  and  two  years  hence 
the  world  may  expect  to  see  it.  I  do  not  quite  per 
ceive  how  such  a  man  as  this  —  a  man  of  frank,  warm, 
simple,  kindly  nature,  but  surely  not  of  a  poetical 
temperament,  or  very  refined,  or  highly  cultivated  — 
should  make  a  good  version  of  Tasso's  poems ;  but 
perhaps  the  dead  poet's  soul  may  take  possession  of 
this  healthy  organization,  and  wholly  turn  him  to  its 
own  purposes. 

The  latter  part  of  our  voyage  to-day  lay  close  along 
the  coast  of  France,  which  was  hilly  and  picturesque, 
and  as  we  approached  Marseilles  was  very  bold  and 
striking.  We  steered  among  rocky  islands,  rising 
abruptly  out  of  the  sea,  mere  naked  crags,  without  a 
trace  of  verdure  upon  them,  and  with  the  surf  break 
ing  at  their  feet.  They  were  unusual  specimens  of 
what  hills  would  look  like  without  the  soil,  that  is  to 
them  what  flesh  is  to  a  skeleton.  Their  shapes  were 
often  wonderfully  fine,  and  the  great  headlands  thrust 
themselves  out,  and  took  such  hues  of  light  and  shade 
that  it  seemed  like  sailing  through  a  picture.  In  the 
course  of  the  afternoon  a  squall  came  up  and  black- 


1859]  FRANCE. 

ened  the  sky  all  over  in  a  twinkling ;  our  vessel  pitched 
and  tossed,  and  a  brig  a  little  way  from  us  had  her 
sails  blown  about  in  wild  fashion.  The  blue  of  the 
sea  turned  as  black  as  night,  and  soon  the  rain  began 
to  spatter  down  upon  us,  and  continued  to  sprinkle 
and  drizzle  a  considerable  time  after  the  wind  had  sub 
sided.  It  was  quite  calm  and  pleasant  when  we  en 
tered  the  harbor  of  Marseilles,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of 
very  fair  hills,  and  is  set  among  great  cliffs  of  stone. 
I  did  not  attend  much  to  this,  however,  being  in  dread 
of  the  difficulty  of  landing  and  passing  through  the 
custom-house  with  our  twelve  or  fourteen  trunks  and 
numberless  carpet-bags.  The  trouble  vanished  into 
thin  air,  nevertheless,  as  we  approached  it,  for  not  a 
single  trunk  or  bag  was  opened,  and,  moreover,  our 
luggage  and  ourselves  were  not  only  landed,  but  the 
greater  part  of  it  conveyed  to  the  railway  without  any 
expense.  Long  live  Louis  Napoleon,  say  I.  We  es 
tablished  ourselves  at  the  Hotel  des  Colonies,  and  then 

Miss  S ,  J ,  and  I  drove   hither  and  thither 

about  Marseilles,  making  arrangements  for  our  journey 
to  Avignon,  where  we  mean  to  go  to-day.  We  might 
have  avoided  a  good  deal  of  this  annoyance ;  but 
travellers,  like  other  people,  are  continually  getting 
their  experience  just  a  little  too  late.  It  was  after 
nine  before  we  got  back  to  the  hotel  and  took  our  tea 
in  peace. 

AVIGNON. 

Hotel  de  V Europe,  June  1st.  —  I  remember  nothing 
very  special  to  record  about  Marseilles }  though  it  was 
11* 


250  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1659. 

really  like  passing  from  death  into  life,  to  find  our 
selves  in  busy,  cheerful,  effervescing  France,  after  liv 
ing  so  long  between  asleep  and  awake  in  sluggish 
Italy.  Marseilles  is  a  very  interesting  and  entertain 
ing  town,  with  its  bold  surrounding  heights,  its  wide 
streets,  —  so  they  seemed  to  us  after  the  Roman 
alleys,  —  its  squares,  shady  with  trees,  its  diversified 
population  of  sailors,  citizens,  Orientals,  and  what  not ; 
but  I  have  no  spirit  for  description  any  longer ;  being 
tired  of  seeing  things,  and  still  more  of  telling  myself 
about  them.  Only  a  young  traveller  can  have  patience 
to  write  his  travels.  The  newest  things,  nowadays, 
have  a  familiarity  to  my  eyes  ;  whereas  in  their  lost 
sense  of  novelty  lies  the  charm  and  power  of  de 
scription. 

On  Monday  (30th  May),  though  it  began  with  heavy 
rain,  we  set  early  about  our  preparations  for  depart 
ure,  ....  and,  at  about  three,  we  left  the  Hotel  des 
Colonies.  It  is  a  very  comfortable  hotel,  though 
expensive.  The  Restaurant  connected  with  it  occu 
pies  the  enclosed  court-yard  and  the  arcades  around 
it ;  and  it  was  a  good  amusement  to  look  down  from 
the  surrounding  gallery,  communicating  with  our 
apartments,  and  see  the  fashion  and  manner  of 
French  eating,  all  the  time  going  forward.  In  sunny 
weather  a  great  fiwning  is  spread  over  the  whole 
court,  across  from  the  upper  stories  of  the  house. 
There  is  a  grass  plat  in  the  middle,  and  a  very 
spacious  and  airy  dining-saloon  is  thus  formed. 

Our  railroad  carriage  was  comfortable,  and  we 
found  in  it,  besides  two  other  Frenchwomen,  two 


1859.]  FBAXCE.  251 

nuns.  They  were  very  devout,  and  sedulously  read 
their  little  books  of  devotion,  repeated  prayers  under 
their  breath,  kissed  the  crucifixes  which  hung  at  their 
girdles,  and  told  a  string  of  beads,  which  they  passed 
from  one  to  the  other.  So  much  were  they  occupied 
with  these  duties,  that  they  scarcely  looked  at  the 
scenery  along  the  road,  though,  probably,  it  is  very 
rare  for  them  to  see  anything  outside  of  their  convent- 
walls.  The}''  never  failed  to  mutter  a  prayer  and  kiss 
the  crucifix  whenever  we  plunged  into  a  tunnel.  If 
they  glanced  at  their  fellow-passengers,  it  was  shyly 
and  askance,  with  their  lips  in  motion  all  the  time, 
like  children  afraid  to  let  their  eyes  wander  from  their 
lesson-book.  One  of  them,  however,  took  occasion 

to   pull   down   R 's   dress,   which,   in   her   frisky 

movements  about  the  carriage,  had  got  out  of  place, 
too  high  for  the  nun's  sense  of  decorum.  Neither  of 
them  was  at  all  pretty,  nor  was  the  black  stuff  dress 
and  white  muslin  cap  in  the  least  becoming,  neither 
were  their  features  of  an  intelligent  or  high-bred 
stamp.  Their  manners,  however,  or  such  little 
glimpses  as  I  could  get  of  them,  were  unexception 
able ;  and  when  I  drew  a  curtain  to  protect  one  of 
them  from  the  sun,  she  made  me  a  very  courteous 
gesture  of  thanks. 

We  had  some   very  good  views   both  of  sea  and 
hills;    and  a  part   of  our  way  lay  along  the  banks 

of  the  Rhone By  the  by,  at  the  station    at 

Marseilles,  I  bought  the  two  volumes  of  the  "  Livre 
des  Merveilles,"  by  a  certain  author  of  my  acquaint 
ance,  translated  into  French,  and  printed  and  illus- 


252  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

trated  in  very  pretty  style.     Miss  S also  bought 

them,  and,  in  answer  to  her  inquiry  for  other  works 
by  the  same  author,  the  bookseller  observed  that 
"she  did  not  think  Monsieur  Nathaniel  had  pub 
lished  anything  else."  The  Christian  name  seems 
to  be  the  most  important  one  in  France,  and  still 
more  especially  in  Italy. 

We  arrived  at  Avignon,  Hotel  de  1'Europe,  in  the 

dusk  of  the  evening The  lassitude  of  Rome 

still  clings  to  us,  and  I,  at  least,  feel  no  spring  of  life 
or  activity,  whether  at  morn  or  eve.  In  the  morning 
we  found  ourselves  very  pleasantly  situated  as  re- 
gard,s  lodgings.  The  gallery  of  our  suite  of  rooms 
looks  down  as  usual  into  an  enclosed  court,  three 
sides  of  which  are  formed  by  the  stone  house  and 
its  two  wings,  and  the  third  by  a  high  wall,  with 
a  gateway  of  iron  between  two  lofty  stone  pillars, 
which,  for  their  capitals,  have  great  stone  vases,  with 
grass  growing  in  them,  and  hanging  over  the  brim. 
There  is  a  large  plane-tree  in  one  corner  of  the  court, 
and  creeping  plants  clamber  up  trellises ;  and  there 
are  pots  of  flowers  and  bird-cages,  all  of  which  give 
a  very  fresh  and  cheerful  aspect  to  the  enclosure. 
The  court  is  paved  with  small  round  stones;  the 
omnibus  belonging  to  the  hotel,  and  all  the  carriages 
of  guests,  drive  into  it ;  and  the  wide  arch  of  tho 
stable  door  opens  under  the  central  part  of  the  house. 
Nevertheless,  the  scene  is  not  in  all  respects  that  of 
a  stable-yard ;  for  gentlemen  and  ladies  come  from 
the  salle  ct  manger  and  other  rooms,  -and  stand 
talking  in  the  court,  or  occupy  chairs  and  seats 


1859.]  FRANCE.  253 

there ;  children  play  about ;  the  hostess  or  her 
daughter  often  appears  and  talks  with  her  guests 
or  servants ;  dogs  lounge,  and,  in  short,  the  court 
might  well  enough  be  taken  for  the  one  scene  of 
a  classic  play.  The  hotel  seems  to  be  of  the  first 
class,  though  such  would  not  be  indicated,  either  in 
England  or  America,  by  thus  mixing  up  the  stable 
with  the  lodgings.  I  have  taken  two  or  three  rambles 
about  the  town,  and  have  climbed  a  high  rock  which 
dominates  over  it,  and  gives  a  most  extensive  view 
from  the  broad  table-land  of  its  summit.  The  old 
church  of  Avignon  —  as  old  as  the  times  of  its  popes, 
and  older  —  stands  close  beside  this  mighty  and 
massive  crag.  We  went  into  it,  and  found  it  a  dark 
old  place,  with  broad,  interior  arches,  and  a  singularly 
shaped  dome ;  a  venerable  Gothic  and  Grecian  porch, 
with  ancient  frescos  in  its  arched  spaces ;  some 
dusky  pictures  within ;  an  ancient  chair  of  stone, 
formerly  occupied  by  the  popes,  and  much  else  that 
would  have  been  exceedingly  interesting  before  I 
went  to  Rome.  But  Rome  takes  the  charm  out  of 
all  inferior  antiquity,  as  well  as  the  life  out  of  human 
beings. 

This  forenoon,  J and  I  have  crossed  the  Rhone 

by  a  bridge,  just  the  other  side  of  one  of  the  city 
gates,  which  is  near  our  hotel.  We  walked  along  the 
river-side,  and  saw  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  bridge, 
which  ends  abruptly  in  the  midst  of  the  stream ;  two 
or  three  arches  still  making  tremendous  strides 
across,  while  the  others  have  long  ago  been  crumbled 
away  by  the  rush  of  the  rapid  river.  The  bridge  was 


254  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

originally  founded  by  St.  Benedict,  who  received  a 
Divine  order  to  undertake  the  work,  while  yet  a 
shepherd-boy,  with  only  three  sous  in  his  pocket ; 
and  he  proved  the  authenticity  of  the  mission  by 
taking  an  immense  stone  on  his  shoulder,  and  laying 
it  for  the  foundation.  There  is  still  an  ancient  chapel 
midway  on  the  bridge,  and  I  believe  St.  Benedict 
lies  buried  there,  in  the  midst  of  his  dilapidated 
work.  The  bridge  now  used  is  considerably  lower 
down  the  stream.  It  is  a  wooden  suspension-bridge, 
broader  than  the  ancient  one,  and  doubtless  more 
than  supplies  its  place ;  else,  unquestionably,  St. 
Benedict  would  think  it  necessary  to  repair  his  own. 
The  view  from  the  inner  side  of  this  ruined  structure, 
grass-grown  and  weedy,  and  leading  to  such  a  pre 
cipitous  plunge  into  the  swift  river,  is  very  pictu 
resque,  in  connection  writh  the  gray  town  and  above 
it,  the  great,  massive  bulk  of  the  cliff,  the  towers 
of  the  church,  and  of  a  vast  old  edifice,  shapeless, 
ugly,  and  venerable,  which  the  popes  built  and  occu 
pied  as  their  palace,  many  centuries  ago 

After  dinner  we  all  set  out  on  a  walk,  in  the  course 
of  which  we   called   at  a  bookseller's    shop    to  show 

U an  enormous  cat,  which  I  had  already  seen. 

It  is  of  the  Angola  breed,  of  a  mottled  yellow  color, 
and  is  really  a  wonder ;  as  big  and  broad  as  a  toler 
ably  sized  dog,  very  soft  and  silken,  and  apparently 
of  the  gentlest  disposition.  I  never  imagined  the 
like,  nor  felt  anything  so  deeply  soft  as  this  great 
beast.  Its  master  seems  very  fond  and  proud  of  it ; 
and,  great  a  favorite  as  the  cat  is,  she  does  not  take 


1859.]  FRANCE.  255 

airs  upon  herself,  but  is  gently  shy  and  timid  in  her 
demonstrations. 

We  ascended  the  great  Rocher  above  the  palace  of 
the  popes,  and  on  our  way  looked  into  the  old  church, 
which  was  so  dim  in  the  decline  of  day  that  we  could 
not  see  within  the  dusky  arches,  through  which  the 
chapels  communicated  with  the  nave.  Thence  we 
pursued  our  way  up  the  farther  ascent,  and,  standing 
on  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  —  protected  by  a  parapet 
of  stone,  and  in  other  places  by  an  iron  railing,  —  we 
could  look  down  upon  the  road  that  winds  its  dusky 
track  far  below,  and  at  the  river  Rhone,  which  eddies 
close  beside  it.  This  is  indeed  a  massive  and  lofty 
cliff,  and  it  tumbles  down  so  precipitously  that  1 
could  readily  have  flung  myself  from  the  bank,  and 
alighted  on  my  head  in  the  middle  of  the  river.  The 
Rhone  passes  so  near  its  base  that  I  threw  stones  a 
good  way  into  its  current.  We  talked  with  a  man  of 
Avignon,  who  leaned  over  the  parapet  near  by,  and 
he  was  very  kind  in  explaining  the  points  of  view, 
and  told  us  that  the  river,  which  winds  and  doubles 

0 

upon  itself  so  as  to  look  like  at  least  two  rivers,  is 
really  the  Rhone  alone.  The  Durance  joins  with  it 
within  a  few  miles  below  Avignon,  but  is  here  in 
visible. 

Hotel  de  V Europe,  June  2d.  —  This  morning  we 
went  again  to  the  Duomo  of  the  popes ;  and  this 
time  we  allowed  the  custode,  or  sacristan,  to  show  us 
the  curiosities  of  it.  <He  led  us  into  a  chapel  apart, 
and  showed  us  the  old  Gothic  tomb  of  Pope  John 


256  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

XXII.,  where  the  recumbent  statue  of  the  pope  lies 
beneath  one  of  those  beautiful  and  venerable  canopies 
of  stone  which  look  at  once  so  light  and  so  solemn. 
I  know  not  how  many  hundred  years  old  it  is,  but 
everything  of  Gothic  origin  has  a  faculty  of  conveying 
the  idea  of  age ;  whereas  classic  forms  seem  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  time,  and  so  lose  the  kind  of  im- 
pressiveness  that  arises  from  suggestions  of  decay  and 
the  past. 

In  the  sacristy  the  guide  opened  a  cupboard  that 
contained  the  jewels  and  sacred  treasures  of  the- 
church,  and  showed  a  most  exquisite  figure  of  Christ 
in  ivory,  represented  as  on  a  cross  of  ebony ;  and  it 
was  executed  with  wonderful  truth  and  force  of  ex 
pression,  and  with  great  beauty  likewise.  I  do  not 
see  what  a  full-length  marble  statue  could  have  had 
that  was  lacking  in  this  little  ivory  figure  of  hardly 
more  than  a  foot  high.  It  is  about  two  centuries 
old,  by  an  unknown  artist.  There  is  another  famous 
ivory  statuette  in  Avignon  which  seems  to  be  more 
celebrated  than  this,  but  can  hardly  be  superior.  I 
shall  gladly  look  at  it  if  it  comes  in  my  way. 

Next  to  this,  the  prettiest  thing  the  man  showed  us 
was  a  circle  of  emeralds,  in  one  of  the  holy  imple 
ments  ;  and  then  he  exhibited  a  little  bit  of  a  pope's 
skull ;  also  a  great  old  crozier,  that  looked  as  if  made 
chiefly  of  silver,  and  partly  gilt ;  but  I  saw  where  the 
plating  of  silver  was  worn  away,  and  betrayed  the 
copper  of  its  actual  substance.  There  were  two  or 
three  pictures  in  the  sacristy,  by  ancient  and  modern 
French  artists,  very  unlike  the  productions  of  tho 


1859.]  FRANCE.  257 

Italian  masters,  but  not  without  a  beauty  of  their 
own. 

Leaving  the  sacristy,  we  returned  into  the  church, 

where  U and  J began  to  draw  the  pope's  old 

stone  chair.  There  is  a  beast,  or  perhaps  more  than 
one,  grotesquely  sculptured  upon  it ;  the  seat  is  high 
and  square,  the  back  low  and  pointed,  and  it  offers  no 
enticing  promise  to  a  weary  man. 

The  interior  of  the  church  is  massively  picturesque, 
with  its  vaulted  roof,  and  a  stone  gallery,  heavily 
ornamented,  running  along  each  side  of  the  nave. 
Each  arch  of  the  nave  gives  admittance  to  a  chapel, 
in  all  of  which  there  are  pictures,  and  sculptures  in 
most  of  them.  One  of  these  chapels  is  of  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  and  has  a  vaulted  roof  of  admirable 
architecture,  covered  with  frescos  of  modern  date  and 
little  merit.  In  an  adjacent  chapel  is  the  stone  monu 
ment  of  Pope  Benedict,  whose  statue  reposes  on  it, 
like  many  which  I  have  seen  in  the  Cathedral  of  York 
and  other  old  English  churches.  In  another  part  we 
saw  a  monument,  consisting  of  a  plain  slab'supported 
on  pillars ;  it  is  said  to  be  of  a  Roman  or  very  early 
Christian  epoch.  In  another  chapel  was  a  figure  of 
Christ  in  wax,  I  believe,  and  clothed  in  real  drapery  ; 
a  very  ugly  object.  Also,  a  figure  reposing  under  a 
slab,  which  strikes  the  spectator  with  the  idea  that  it 
is  really  a  dead  person  enveloped  in  a  shroud.  There 
are  windows  of  painted  glass  in  some  of  the  chapels ; 
and  the  gloom  of  the  dimly  lighted  interior,  espe 
cially  beneath  the  broad,  low  arches,  is  very  impressive. 

While  we  were  there  some  women  assemMed  at  ono 


258          FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [l6oi>, 

of  the  altars,  and  went  through  their  acts  of  devotion 
without  the  help  of  a  priest ;  one  and  another  of  them 
alternately  repeating  prayers,  to  which  the  rest  re 
sponded.  The  murmur  of  their  voices  took  a  musical 
tone,  wrhich  was  reverberated  by  the  vaulted  arches. 

U and  I  now  came  out ;  and,  under  the  porch, 

we  found  an  old  woman  selling  rosaries,  little  religious 
books,  and  other  holy  things.  We  bought  two  little 
medals  of  the  Immaculate  Virgin,  one  purporting  to 
be  of  silver,  the  other  of  gold ;  but  as  both  too-other 
cost  only  two  or  three  sous,  the  genuineness  of  the 
material  may  well  be  doubted.  We  sat  down  on  the 
steps  of  a  crucifix  which  is  placed  in  front  of  the 
church,  and  the  children  began  to  draw  the  porch,  of 
which  I  hardly  know  whether  to  call  the  architecture 
classic  or  Gothic  (as  I  said  before) ;  at  all  events  it 
has  a  venerable  aspect,  and  there  are  frescos  within  its 

arches  by  Simone  Memmi The  popes'  palace 

is  contiguous  to  the  church,  and  just  below  it,  on  the 
hillside.  It  is  now  occupied  as  barracks  by  some 
regiments  of  soldiers,  a  number  of  whom  were  loun 
ging  before  the  entrance  ;  but  we  passed  the  sentinel 
without  being  challenged,  and  addressed  ourselves  to 
the  concierge,  who  readily  assented  to  our  request  to 
be  shown  through  the  edifice.  A  French  gentleman 
and  lady,  likewise,  came  with  similar  purpose,  and  went 
the  rounds  along  with  us.  The  palace  is  such  a  con 
fused  heap  and  conglomeration  of  buildings,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  get  within  any  sort  of  a  regular  descrip 
tion.  It  is  a  huge,  shapeless  mass  of  .architecture ; 
and  if  it  ever  had  any  pretence  to  a  plan,  it  has  lost  it 


1859.]  FRANCE.  259 

in  the  modern  alterations.  For  instance,  an  immense 
and  lofty  chapel,  or  rather  church,  has  had  two  floors, 
one  above  the  other,  laid  at  different  stages  of  its 
height ;  and  the  upper  one  of  these  floors,  which  ex 
tends  just  where  the  arches  of  the  vaulted  roof  begin 
to  spring  from  the  pillars,  is  ranged  round  with  the 
beds  of  one  of  the  regiments  of  soldiers.  They  are 
small  iron  bedsteads,  each  with  its  narrow  mattress, 
and  covered  with  a  dark  blanket.  On  some  of  them 
lay  or  lounged  a  soldier ;  other  soldiers  were  cleaning 
their  accoutrements ;  elsewhere  we  saw  parties  of  them 
playing  cards.  So  it  was  wherever  we  went  among 
those  large,  dingy,  gloomy  halls  and  chambers,  which, 
no  doubt,  were  once  stately  and  sumptuous,  with  pic 
tures,  with  tapestry,  and  all  sorts  of  adornment  that 
the  Middle  Ages  knew  how  to  use.  The  windows 
threw  a  sombre  light  through  embrasures  at  least 
two  feet  thick.  There  were  staircases  of  magnificent 
breadth.  We  were  shown  into  two  small  chapels,  in 
different  parts  of  the  building,  both  containing  the  re 
mains  of  old  frescos  wofully  defaced.  In  one  of  them 
was  a  light,  spiral  staircase  of  iron,  built  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  as  a  means  of  contemplating  the  frescos, 
which  were  said  to  be  the  work  of  our  old  friend 
Giotto Finally,  we  climbed  a  long,  long,  nar 
row  stair,  built  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  and  thus 
gained  access  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  towers,  whence 
we  saw  the  noblest  landscapes,  mountains,  plains,  and 
the  Rhone,  broad  and  bright,  winding  hither  and 
thither,  as  if  it  had  lost  its  way. 

Beneath  our  feet  was   the   gray,  ugly  old  palace, 


260  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

and  its  many  courts,  just  as  void  of  system  and  as  in* 
conceivable  as  when  we  were  burrowing  through  its 
bewildering  passages.  No  end  of  historical  romances 
might  be  made  out  of  this  castle  of  the  popes ;  and 
there  ought  to  be  a  ghost  in  every  room,  and  droves 
of  them  in  some  of  the  rooms ;  for  there  have  been 
murders  here  in  the  gross  and  in  detail,  as  well  hun 
dreds  of  years  ago,  as  no  longer  back  than  the  French 
Revolution,  when  there  was  a  great  massacre  in  one 
of  the  courts.  Traces  of  this  bloody  business  were 
visible  in  actual  stains  on  the  wall  only  a  few  years 
ago. 

Returning  to  the  room  of  the  concierge,  who,  being 
a  little  stiff  with  age,  had  sent  an  attendant  round 
with  us,  instead  of  accompanying  us  in  person,  he 
showed  us  a  picture  of  Rlenzi,  the  last  of  the  Roman 
tribunes,  who  was  once  a  prisoner  here.  On  a  table, 
beneath  the  picture,  stood  a  little  vase  of  earthenware 
containing  some  silver  coin.  We  took  it  as  a  hint,  in 
the  customary  style  of  French  elegance,  that  a  fee 
should  be  deposited  here,  instead  of  being  put  into 
the  hand  of  the  concierge  ;  so  the  French  gentleman 
deposited  half  a  franc,  and  I,  in  my  magnificence, 
twice  as  much. 

Hotel  de  T  Europe,  June  6th.  —  We  are  still  here. 
....  I  have  been  daily  to  the  Rocher  des  Doms, 
and  have  grown  familiar  with  the  old  church  on  its 
declivity.  I  think  I  might  become  attached  to  it 
by  seeing  it  often.  A  sombre  old  interior,  with  its 
heavy  arches,  and  its  roof  vaulted  like  the  top  of 


1859.]  FRANCE.  261 

a  trunk ;  its  stone  gallery,  with  ponderous  adorn 
ments,  running  round  three  sides.  I  observe  that  it 
is  a  daily  custom  of  the  old  women  to  say  their 
prayers  in  concert,  sometimes  making  a  pilgrimage, 
as  it  were,  from  chapel  to  chapel.  The  voice  of  one 
of  them  is  heard  running  through  the  series  of  peti 
tions,  and  at  intervals  the  voices  of  the  others  join  and 
swell  into  a  chorus,  so  that  it  is  like  a  river  connecting 
a  series  of  lakes ;  or,  not  to  use  so  gigantic  a  simile, 
the  one  voice  is  like  a  thread,  on  which  the  beads  of 
a  rosary  are  strung. 

One  day  two  priests  came  and  sat  down  beside 
these  prayerful  women,  and  joined  in  their  petitions. 
I  am  inclined  to  hope  that  there  is  something  genuine 
in  the  devotion  of  these  old  women. 

The  view  from  the  top  of  the  Rocher  des  Doms  (a 
contraction  of  Domines)  grows  upon  me,  and  is  truly 
magnificent ;  a  vast  mountain-girdled  plain,  illumi 
nated  by  the  far  windings  and  reaches  of  the  Rhone. 
The  river  is  here  almost  as  turbid  as  the  Tiber  itself; 
but,  I  remember,  in  the  upper  part  of  its  course  the 
waters  are  beautifully  transparent.  A  powerful  rush 
is  indicated  by  the  swirls  and  eddies  of  its  broad 
surface. 

Yesterday  was  a  race  day  at  Avignon,  and  appar 
ently  almost  the  whole  population  and  a  great  many 
strangers  streamed  out  of  the  city  gate  nearest  our 
hotel,  on  their  way  to  the  race-course.  There  were 
many  noticeable  figures  that  might  come  well  into  a 
French  picture  or  description;  but  only  one  remains 
in  my  memory,  —  a  young  man  with  a  wooden  leg. 


2G2  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

setting  off  for  the  course  —  a  walk  of  several  miles, 
I  believe  —  with  prodigious  courage  and  alacrity, 
flourishing  his  wooden  leg  with  an  air  and  grace  that 
seemed  to  render  it  positively  flexible.  The  crowd 
returned  towards  sunset,  and  almost  all  night  long 
the  streets  and  the  whole  air  of  the  old  town  were 
full  of  song  and  merriment.  There  was  a  ball  in  a 
temporary  structure,  covered  with  an  awning,  in  the 
Place  d'Horloge,  and  a  showman  has  erected  his  tent 
and  spread  forth  his  great  painted  canvases,  announ 
cing  an  anaconda  and  a  sea-tiger  to  be  seen.  J 

paid  four  sous  for  admittance,  and  found  that  the 
sea-tiger  was  nothing  but  a  large  seal,  and  the  ana 
conda  altogether  a  myth. 

I  have  rambled  a  good  deal  about  the  town.  Its 
streets  are  crooked  and  perplexing,  and  paved  with 
round  pebbles  for  the  most  part,  which  afford  more 
uncomfortable  pedestrian  ism  than  the  pavement  of 
Rome  itself.  It  is  an  ancient-looking  place,  with 
some  large  old  mansions,  but  few  that  are  individ 
ually  impressive ;  though  here  and  there  one  sees 
an  antique  entrance,  a  corner  tower,  or  other  bit  of 
antiquity,  that  throws  a  venerable  effect  over  the 
gray  commonplace  of  past  centuries.  The  town  is 
not  overclcan,  and  often  there  is  a  kennel  of  un 
happy  odor.  There  appear  to  have  been  many  more 
churches  and  devotional  establishments  under  the  an 
cient  dominion  of  the  popes  than  have  been  kept 
intact  in  subsequent  ages ;  the  tower  and  fa9ade  of 
a  church,  for  instance,  form  the  front  of  a  carpen 
ter's  shop,  or  some  such  plebeian  place.  The  church 


1859.]  FRANCE.  263 

where  Laura  lay  has  quite  disappeared,  and  her  tomb 
along  with  it.  The  town  reminds  me  of  Chester, 
though  it  does  not  in  the  least  resemble  it,  and  is 
not  nearly  so  picturesque.  Like  Chester,  it  is  entirely 
surrounded  by  a  wall ;  and  that  of  Avignon  —  though 
it  has  no  delightful  promenade  on  its  top,  as  the 
wall  of  Chester  has  —  is  the  more  perfectly  preserved 
in  its  mediaeval  form,  and  the  more  picturesque  of 

the   two.     J and   I    have  once  or  twice  walked 

nearly  round  it,  commencing  from  the  gate  of  Ouelle, 
which  is  very  near  our  hotel.  From  this  point  it 
stretches  for  a  considerable  distance  along  by  the 
river,  and  here  there  is  a  broad  promenade,  with 
trees,  and  blocks  of  stone  for  seats  ;  on  one  side  "  tho 
arrowy  Rhone,"  generally  carrying  a  cooling  breeze 
along  with  it ;  on  the  other,  the  gray  wall,  with  its 
battlements  and  machicolations,  impending  over  what 
was  once  the  moat,  but  which  is  now  full  of  careless 
and  untrained  shrubbery.  At  intervals  there  are 
round  towers  swelling  out  from  the  wall,  and  rising 
a  little  above  it.  After  about  half  a  mile  along  the 
river-side  the  wall  turns  at  nearly  right  angles,  and 
still  there  is  a  wide  road,  a  shaded  walk,  a  boulevard ; 
and  at  short  distances  are  cafes,  with  their  little  round 
tables  before  the  door,  or  small  shady  nooks  of  shrub 
bery.  So  numerous  are  these  retreats  and  pleasaunces 
that  I  do  npt  see  how  the  little  old  town  can  support 
them  all,  especially  as  there  are  a  great  many  cafes 
within  the  walls.  I  do  not  remember  seeing  any  sol 
diers  on  guard  at  the  numerous  city  gates,  but  there 
is  an  office  in  the  side  of  each  gate  for  levying  tho 


264  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

octroi,  and  old  women  are  sometimes  on  guard 
there. 

This  morning,  after  breakfast,  J and  I  crossed 

the  suspension-bridge  close  by  the  gate  nearest  our 
hotel,  and  walked  to  the  ancient  town  of  Villeneuve, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Rhone.  The  first  bridge 
leads  to  an  island,  from  the  farther  side  of  which 
another  very  long  one,  with  a  timber  foundation, 
accomplishes  the  passage  of  the.  other  branch  of  the 
Rhone.  There  was  a  good  breeze  on  the  river,  but 
after  crossing  it  we  found  the  rest  of  the  walk  exces 
sively  hot.  This  town  of  Villeneuve  is  of  very  ancient 
origin,  and  owes  its  existence,  it  is  said,  to  the  famous 
holiness  of  a  female  saint,  which  gathered  round  her 
abode  and  burial-place  a  great  many  habitations  of 
people  who  reverenced  her.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  the  King  of  Saragossa,  and  I  presume  she  chose 
this  site  because  it  was  so  rocky  and  desolate.  After 
wards  it  had  a  long  mediaeval  history;  and  in  the 
time  of  the  Avignon  popes,  the  cardinals,  regretful  of 
their  abandoned  Roman  villas,  built  pleasure-houses 
here,  so  that  the  town  was  called  Villa  Nuova.  After 
they  had  done  their  best,  it  must  have  seemed  to  these 
poor  cardinals  but  a  rude  and  sad  exchange  for  the 
Borghese,  the  Albani,  the  Pamfili  Doria,  and  those 
other  perfectest  results  of  man's  luxurious  art.  And 
probably  the  tradition  of  the  Roman  villas  had  really 
been  kept  alive,  and  extant  examples  of  them  all  the 
way  downward  from  the  times  of  the  empire.  But 
this  Villeneuve  is  the  stoniest,  roughest  town  that 
can  be  imagined.  There  are  a  few  large  old  houses, 


1859.]  FRANCE.  265 

to  be  sure,  but  built  on  a  line  with  shabby  village  dwell 
ings  and  barns,  and  so  presenting  little  but  samples 
of  magnificent  shabbiness.  Perhaps  I  might  have 
found  traces  of  old  splendor  if  I  had  sought  for  them  ; 
but,  not  having  the  history  of  the  place  in  my  mind,  I 
passed  through  its  scrambling  streets  without  imagin 
ing  that  Princes  of  the  Church  had  once  made  their 
abode  here.  The  inhabitants  now  are  peasants,  or 
chiefly  such ;  though,  for  aught  I  know,-  some  of  the 
French  noblesse  may  burrow  in  these  palaces  that 
look  so  like  hovels. 

A  large  church,  with  a  massive  tower,  stands  near 
the  centre  of  the  town ;  and,  of  course,  I  did  not  fail 
to  enter  its  arched  door,  —  a  pointed  arch,  with  many 
frames  and  mouldings,  one  within  another.  An  old 
woman  was  at  her  devotions,  and  several  others  came 
in  and  knelt  during  my  stay  there.  It  was  quite  an 
interesting  interior ;  a  long  nave,  with  six  pointed 
arches  on  each  side,  beneath  which  were  as  many 
chapels.  The  walls  were  rich  with  pictures,  not  only 
in  the  chapels,  but  up  and  down  the  nave,  above  the 
arches.  There  were  gilded  virgins,  too,  and  much 
other  quaint  device  that  produced  an  effect  that  I 
rather  liked  than  otherwise.  At  the  end  of  the  church, 
farthest  from  the  high  altar,  there  were  four  columns 
of  exceedingly  rich  marble,  and  a  good  deal  more  of 
such  precious  material  was  wrought  into  the  chapels 
and  altars.  There  was  an  old  stone  seat,  also,  of 
some  former  pope  or  prelate.  The  church  was  dim 
enough  to  cause  the  iamps  in  the  shrines  to  become 
points  of  vivid  light,  and,  looking  from  end  to  end,  it 

VOL.  II.  12 


266  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

was  a  long,  venerable,  tarnished,  Old- World  vista,  not 
at  all  tampered  with  by  modern  taste. 

We  now  went  on  our  way  through  the  village,  and, 
emerging  from  a  gate,  went  clambering  towards  the 
castle  of  St.  Andre,  which  stands,  perhaps,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  beyond  it.  This  castle  was  built  by  Philip 
le  Bel,  as  a  restraint  to  the  people  of  Avignon  in 
extending  their  power  on  this  side  of  the  Rhone.  We 
happened  not  to  take  the  most  direct  way,  and  so 
approached  the  castle  on  the  farther  side  and  were 
obliged  to  go  nearly  round  the  hill  on  which  it  stands, 
before  striking  into  the  path  which  leads  to  its  gate. 
It  crowns  a  very  bold  and  difficult  hill,  directly  above 
the  Rhone,  opposite  to  Avignon,  —  which  is  so  far  off 
that  objects  are  not  minutely  distinguishable, — and 
looking  down  upon  the  long,  straggling  town  of  Ville- 
neuve.  It  must  have  been  a  place  of  mighty  strength, 
in  its  day.  Its  ramparts  seem  still  almost  entire,  as 
looked  upon  from  without,  and  when,  at  length,  we 
climbed  the  rough,  rocky  pathway  to  the  entrance,  we 
found  the  two  vast  round  towers,  with  their  battle- 
mented  summits  and  arched  gateway  between  them, 
just  as  perfect  as  they  could  have  been  five  hundred 
or  more  years  ago.  Some  external  defences  are  now, 
however,  in  a  state  of  ruin ;  and  there  are  only  the 
remains  of  a  tower,  that  once  arose  between  the  two 
round  towers,  and  was  apparently  much  more  elevated 
than  they.  A  little  in  front  of  the  gate  was  a  monu 
mental  cross  of  stone ;  and  in  the  arch,  between  the 
two  round  towers,  were  two  little  boys  -at  play ;  and 
an  old  woman  soon  showed  herself,  but  took  no  notice 


1859.]  FRANCE.  267 

of  us.  Casting  our  eyes  within  the  gateway,  we  saw 
what  looked  a  rough  village  street,  betwixt  old  houses 
built  ponderously  of  stone,  but  having  far  more  the 
aspect  of  huts  than  of  castle-halls.  They  were  evi 
dently  the  dwellings  of  peasantry,  and  people  engaged 
in  rustic  labor;  and  no  doubt  they  have  burrowed  into 
the  primitive  structures  of  the  castle,  and  as  they  found 
convenient,  have  taken  their  crumbling  materials  to 
build  barns  and  farm-houses.  There  was  space  and 
accommodation  for  a  very  considerable  population ; 
but  the  men  were  probably  at  work  in  the  fields,  and 
the  only  persons  visible  were  the  children  aforesaid, 
and  one  or  two  old  women  bearing  bundles  of  twigs  on 
their  backs.  They  showed  no  curiosity  respecting  us, 
and  though  the  wide  space  included  within  the  castle- 
rampart  seemed  almost  full  of  habitations  ruinous  or 
otherwise,  I  never  found  such  a  solitude  in  any  ruin 
before.  It  contrasts  very  favorably  in  this  particular 
with  English  castles,  where,  though  you  do  not  find 
rustic  villages  within  the  warlike  enclosure,  there  is 
always  a  padlocked  gate,  always  a  guide,  and  generally 
half  a  dozen  idle  tourists.  But  here  was  only  antiq 
uity,  with  merely  the  natural  growth  of  fungous  human 
life  upon  it. 

We  went  to  the  end  of  the  castle  court  and  sat 
down,  for  lack  of  other  shade,  among  some  inhospita 
ble  nettles  that  grew  close  to  the  wall.  Close  by  us 
was  a  great  gap  in  the  ramparts,  —  it  may  have  been 
a  breach  which  was  once  stormed  through ;  and  it 
now  afforded  us  an  airy  and  sunny  glimpse  of  distant 
hills J sketched  part  of  the  broken  wall 


268  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

which,  by  the  by,  did  not  seem  to  me  nearly  so  thick 
as  the  walls  of  English  castles.  Then  we  returned 
through  the  gate,  and  I  stopped,  rather  impatiently, 

under  the  hot  sun,  while  J drew  the  outline  of 

the  two  round  towers.  This  done,  we  resumed  our 
way  homeward,  after  drinking  from  a  very  deep  well 
close  by  the  square  tower  of  Philip  le  Bel.  Thence 
we  went  melting  through  the  sunshine,  which  beat 
upward  as  pitilessly  from  the  white  road  as  it  blazed 
downwards  from  the  sky 

GENEVA. 

Hotel  tf  Angleterre,  June  llth. — We  left  Avignon 
on  Tuesday,  7th,  and  took  the  rail  to  Valence,  where 
we  arrived  between  four  and  five,  and  put  up  at  the 
Hotel  de  la  Poste,  an  ancient  house,  with  dirty  floors 
and  dirt  generally,  but  otherwise  comfortable  enough. 
....  Valence  is  a  stately  old  town,  full  of  tall 
houses  and  irregular  streets.  We  found  a  Cathedral 
there,  not  very  large,  but  with  a  high  and  venerable 
interior,  a  nave  supported  by  tall  pillars,  from  the 
height  of  which  spring  arches.  This  loftiness  is  char 
acteristic  of  French  churches,  as  distinguished  from 

those  of  Italy We  likewise  saw,  close  by  the 

Cathedral,  a  large  monument  with  four  arched  en 
trances  meeting  beneath  a  vaulted  roof;  but,  on  in 
quiry  of  an  old  priest  and  other  persons,  wo  could  get 
no  account  of  it,  except  that  it  was  a  tomb,  and  of 
unknown  antiquity.  The  architecture  setsmed  classic, 
and  yet  it  had  some  Gothic  peculiarities,  and  it  was  a 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  269 

reverend  and  beautiful  object.  Had  I  written  up  my 
journal  while  the  town  was  fresh  in  my  remembrance, 
I  might  have  found  much  to  describe  ;  but  a  succes 
sion  of  other  objects  have  obliterated  most  of  the 
impressions  I  have  received  here.  Our  railway  ride 
to  Valence  was  intolerably  hot.  I  have  felt  noth 
ing  like  it  since  leaving  America,  and  that  is  so  long 
ago  that  the  terrible  discomfort  was  just  as  good  as 
new 

We  left  Valence  at  four,  and  came  that  afternoon 
to  Lyons,  still  along  the  Rhone.  Either  the  waters  of 
this  river  assume  a  transparency  in  winter  which 
they  lose  in  summer,  or  I  was  mistaken  in  thinking 
them  transparent  on  our  former  journey.  They  are 
now  turbid ;  but  the  hue  does  not  suggest  the  idea  of 
a  running  mud-puddle,  as  the  water  of  the  Tiber  does. 
No  streams,  however,  are  so  beautiful  in  the  quality 
of  their  waters  as  the  clear,  brown  rivers  of  New  Eng 
land.  The  scenery  along  this  part  of  the  Rhone,  as 
we  have  found  all  the  way  from  Marseilles,  is  very 
fine  and  impressive  ;  old  villages,  rocky  cliffs,  castel 
lated  steeps,  quaint  chateaux,  and  a  thousand  other 
interesting  objects. 

We  arrived  at  Lyons  at  five  o'clock,  and  went  to 
the  Hotel  de  1' Universe,  to  which  we  had  been  recom 
mended  by  our  good  hostess  at  Avignon.  The  day 

had  become  showery,  but  J and  I  strolled  about 

a  little  before  nightfall,  and  saw  the  general  character 
istics  of  the  place.  Lyons  is  a  city  of  very  stately 
aspect,  hardly  inferior  to  Paris  ;  for  it  has  regular 
streets  of  lofty  houses,  and  immense  squares  planted 


270  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

with  trees,  and  adorned  with  statues  and  fountains. 
New  edifices  of  great  splendor  are  in  process  of  erec 
tion;  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rhone,  where 
the  site  rises  steep  and  high,  there  are  structures 
of  older  date,  that  have  an  exceedingly  picturesque 
effect,  looking  down  upon  the  narrow  town. 

The  next  morning  I  went  out  with  J in  quest 

of  my  bankers,  and  of  the  American  Consul ;  and  as  I 
had  forgotten  the  directions  of  the  waiter  of  the  hotel, 
I  of  course  went  astray,  and  saw  a  good  deal  more  of 
Lyons  than  I  intended.  In  my  wanderings  I  crossed 
the  Rhone,  and  found  myself  in  a  portion  of  the  city 
evidently  much  older  than  that  with  which  I  had  pre 
viously  made  acquaintance ;  narrow,  crooked,  irreg 
ular,  and  rudely  paved  streets,  full  of  dingy  business 
and  bustle,  —  the  city,  in  short,  as  it  existed  a  century 
ago,  and  how  much  earlier  I  know  not.  Above  rises 
that  lofty  elevation  of  ground  which  I  before  noticed ; 
and  the  glimpses  of  its  stately  old  buildings  through 
the  openings  of  the  street  were  very  picturesque. 
Unless  it  be  Edinburgh,  I  have  not  seen  any  other 
city  that  has  such  striking  features.  Altogether  un 
awares,  immediately  after  crossing  the  bridge,  we 
came  upon  the  Cathedral  ;  and  the  grand,  time-black 
ened  Gothic  front,  with  its  deeply  arched  entrances, 
seemed  to  me  as  good  as  anything  I  ever  saw,  —  un 
expectedly  more  impressive  than  all  the  ruins  of  Rome. 
I  could  but  merely  glance  at  its  interior ;  so  that  its 
noble  height  and  venerable  space,  filled  with  the  dim, 
consecrated  light  of  pictured  windows,  reurir  to  me  as 
a  vision.  And  it  did  me  good  to  enjoy  the  awfulness 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  271 

and  sanctity  of  Gothic  architecture  again,  after  so  long 
shivering  in  classic  porticos 

We  now  recrossed  the  river The  Frank 

methods  and  arrangements  in  matters  of  business 
seem  to  be  excellent,  so  for  as  effecting  the  proposed 
object  is  concerned ;  but  there  is  such  an  inexorable 
succession  of  steel-wrought  forms,  that  life  is  not  long 
enough  for  so  much  accuracy.  The  stranger,  too, 
goes  blindfold  through  all  these  processes,  not  know 
ing  what  is  to  turn  up  next,  till,  when  quite  in 
despair,  he  suddenly  finds  his  business  mysteriously 
accomplished 

We  left  Lyons  at  four  o'clock,  taking  the  railway 
for  Geneva.  The  scenery  was  very  striking  through 
out  the  journey ;  but  I  allowed  the  hills,  deep  valleys, 
high  impending  cliffs,  and  whatever  else  I  saw  along 
the  road,  to  pass  from  me  without  an  ink-blot.  We 

reached  Geneva  at  nearly  ten  o'clock It  is 

situated  partly  on  low,  flat  ground,  bordering  the 
lake,  and  behind  this  level  space  it  rises  by  steep, 
painfully  paved  streets,  some  of  which  can  hardly  be 
accessible  by  wheeled  carriages.  The  prosperity  of 
the  town  is  indicated  by  a  good  many  new  and  splen 
did  edifices,  for  commercial  and  other  purposes,  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  lake ;  but  intermixed  with  these 
there  are  many  quaint  buildings  of  a  stern  gray 
color,  and  in  a  style  of  architecture  that  I  prefer 
a  thousand  times  to  the  monotony  of  Italian  streets. 
Immensely  high,  red  roofs,  with  windows  in  them, 
produce  an  effect  that  delights  me.  They  are  as 
ugly,  perhaps,  as  can  well  be  conceived,  but  very 


272  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

striking  and  individual.  At  each  corner  of  these 
ancient  houses  frequently  is  a  tower,  the  roof  of 
•which  rises  in  a  square  pyramidal  form,  or,  if  the 
tower  be  round,  in  a  round  pyramidal  form.  Arched 
passages,  gloomy  and  grimy,  pass  from  one  street  to 
another.  The  lower  town  creeps  with  busy  life,  and 
swarms  like  an  ant-hill;  but  if  you  climb  the  half- 
precipitous  streets,  you  find  yourself  among  ancient 
and  stately  mansions,  high  roofed,  with  a  strange 
aspect  of  grandeur  about  them,  looking  as  if  they 
might  still  be  tenanted  by  such  old  magnates  as 
dwelt  iu  them  centuries  ago.  There  is  also  a  Cathe 
dral,  the  older  portion  exceedingly  fine ;  but  it  has 
been  adorned  at  some  modern  epoch  with  a  Grecian 
portico,  —  good  in  itself,  but  absurdly  out  of  keeping 
with  the  edifice  which  it  prefaces.  This  being  a 
Protestant  country,  the  doors  were  all  shut,  —  an 
inhospitality  that  made  me  half  a  Catholic.  It  is 
funny  enough  that  a  stranger  generally  profits  by  all 
that  is  worst  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  where 
he  himself  is  merely  a  visitor.  Despotism  makes 
things  all  the  pleasanter  for  the  stranger.  Cathol 
icism  lends  itself  admirably  to  his  purposes. 

There  are  public  gardens  (one,  at  least)  in  Geneva. 
....  Nothing  struck  me  so  much,  I  think,  as  the 
color  of  the  Rhone,  as  it  flows  under  the  bridges  in 
the  lower  town.  It  is  absolutely  miraculous,  and, 
beautiful  as  it  is,  suggests  the  idea  that  the  tubs  of  a 
thousand  dyers  have  emptied  their  liquid  indigo  into 
the  stream.  When  once  you  have  conquered  and 
thrust  out  this  idea,  it  is  an  inexpressible  delight  to 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  273 

look  down  into  this  intense,  brightly  transparent 
blue,  that  hurries  beneath  you  with  the  speed  of  a 
race-horse. 

The  shops  of  Geneva  are  very  tempting  to  a  trav 
eller,  being  full  of  such  little  knick-knacks  as  he 
would  be  glad  to  carry  away  in  memory  of  the  place  : 
wonderful  carvings  in  wood  and  ivory,  done  with 
exquisite  taste  and  skill;  jewelry  that  seems  very 
cheap,  but  is  doubtless  dear  enough,  if  you  estimate 
it  by  the  solid  gold  that  goes  into  its  manufacture; 
watches,  above  all  things  else,  for  a  third  or  a  quar 
ter  of  the  price  that  one  pays  in  England,  looking 
just  as  well,  too,  and  probably  performing  the  whole 
of  a  watch's  duty  as  uncriticisably.  The  Swiss  people 
are  frugal  and  inexpensive  in  their  own  habits,  I 
believe,  plain  and  simple,  and  careless  of  ornament ; 
but  they  seem  to  reckon  on  other  people's  spending  a 
great  deal  of  money  for  gewgaws.  We  bought  some 
of  their  wooden  trumpery,  and  likewise  a  watch  for 
U Next  to  watches,  jewelry,  and  wood- 
carving,  I  should  say  that  cigars  were  one  of  the 
principal  articles  of  commerce  in  Geneva.  Cigar- 
shops  present  themselves  at  every  step  or  two,  and 
at  a  reasonable  rate,  there  being  no  duties,  I  believe, 
on  imported  goods.  There  was  no  examination  of 
our  trunks  on  arrival,  nor  any  questions  asked  on  that 
score. 

VILLENEUVE. 

Hotel  de  Byron,  June  12th.  —  Yesterday  afternoon 
we  left  Geneva  by  a  steamer,  starting  from  the  quay 
12*  R 


274  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185D. 

at  only  a  short  distance  from  our  hotel.  The  fore 
noon  had  been  showery  ;  but  the  sun  now  came  out 
very  pleasantly^  although  there  were  still  clouds  and 
mist  enough  to  give  infinite  variety  to  the  mountain 
scenery.  At  the  commencement  of  our  voyage  the 
scenery  of  the  lake  was  not  incomparably  superior  to 
that  of  other  lakes  on  which  I  have  sailed,  as  Lake 
Windermere,  for  instance,  or  Loch  Lomond,  or  our 
own  Lake  Champlain.  It  certainly  grew  more  grand 
and  beautiful,  however,  till  at  length  I  felt  that  I  had 
never  seen  anything  worthy  to  be  put  beside  it.  The 
southern  shore  has  the  grandest  scenery ;  the  great 
hills  on  that  side  appearing  close  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  after  descending,  with  headlong  slope,  directly 
from  their  rocky  and  snow-streaked  summits  down 
into  the  blue  water.  Our  course  lay  nearer  to  the 
northern  shore,  and  all  our  stopping-places  were  on 
that  side.  The  first  was  Coppet,  where  Madame  de 
Stae'l  or  her  father,  or  both,  were  either  born  or 
resided  or  died,  I  know  not  which,  and  care  very 
little.  It  is  a  picturesque  village,  with  an  old  church, 
and  old,  high-roofed,  red-tiled  houses,  the  whole 
looking  as  if  nothing  in  it  had  been  changed  for 
many,  many  years.  All  these  villages,  at  several  of 
which  we  stopped  momentarily,  look  delightfully  un 
modified  by  recent  fashions.  There  is  the  church, 
with  its  tower  crowned  by  a  pyramidal  roof,  like  an 
extinguisher  ;  then  the  chateau  of  the  former  lord, 
half  castle  and  half  dwelling-house,  with  a  round 
tower  at  each  corner,  pyramid  topped  ;  then,  perhaps, 
the  ancient  town-house  or  Hotel  de  Villc,  in  an  open 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  275 

paved  square ;  and  perhaps  the  largest  mansion  in  the 
whole  village  will  have  been  turned  into  a  modern  inn, 
but  retaining  all  its  venerable  characteristics  of  high, 
steep  sloping  roof,  and  antiquated  windows.  Scatter 
a  delightful  shade  of  trees  among  the  houses,  throw 
in  a  time-worn  monument  of  one  kind  or  another, 
swell  out  the  delicious  blue  of  the  lake  in  front,  and 
the  delicious  green  of  the  sunny  hillside  sloping  up 
and  around  this  closely  congregated  neighborhood 
of  old,  comfortable  houses,  and  I  do  not  know  what 
more  I  can  add  to  this  sketch.  Often  there  was  an 
insulated  house  or  cottage,  embowered  in  shade,  and 
each  seeming  like  the  one  only  spot  in  the  wide  world 
where  two  people  that  had  good  consciences  and 
loved  each  other  could  spend  a  happy  life.  Half- 
ruined  towers,  old  historic  castles,  these,  too,  we 
saw.  And  all  the  .while,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake,  were  the  high  hills,  sometimes  dim,  sometimes 
black,  sometimes  green,  with  gray  precipices  of  stone, 
and  often  snow-patches,  right  above  the  warm  sunny 
lake  whereon  we  were  sailing. 

We  passed  Lausanne,  which  stands  upward,  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill,  the  tower  of  its  Cathedral  forming 
a  conspicuous  object.  We  mean  to  visit  this  to 
morrow  ;  so  I  may  pretermit  further  mention  of  it 
here.  We  passed  Vevay  and  Clarens,  which,  me- 
thought,  was  particularly  picturesque ;  for  now  the 
hills  had  approached  close  to  the  water  on  the  north 
ern  side  also,  and  steep  heights  rose  directly  above 
the  little  gray  church  and  village ;  and  especially  I 
remember  a  rocky  cliff"  which  ascends  into  a  rounded 


276  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859 

pyramid,  insulated  from  all  other  peaks  and  ridges. 
But  if  I  could  perform  the  absolute  impossibility  of 
getting  one  single  outline  of  the  scene  into  words, 
there  would  be  all  the  color  wanting,  the  light,  the 
haze,  which  spiritualizes  it,  and  moreover  makes  a 
thousand  and  a  thousand  scenes  out  of  that  single 
one.  Clarens,  however,  has  still  another  interest  for 
me  ;  for  I  found  myself  more  affected  by  it,  as  the 
scene  of  the  love  of  St.  Preux  and  Julia,  than  I  have 
often  been  by  scenes  of  poetry  and  romance.  I  read 
Rousseau's  romance  with  great  sympathy,  when  I  was 
hardly  more  than  a  boy;  ten  years  ago,  or  there 
abouts,  I  tried  to  read  it  again  without  success ;  but 
I  think,  from  my  feeling  of  yesterday,  that  it  still 
retains  its  hold  upon  my  imagination. 

Farther  onward,  we  saw  a  white,  ancient-looking 
group  of  towers,  beneath  a  mountain,  which  was  so 
high,  and  rushed  so  precipitately  down  upon  this  pile 
of  building  as  quite  to  dwarf  it;  besides  which,  its 
dingy  whiteness  had  not  a  very  picturesque  effect. 
Nevertheless,  this  was  the  Castle  of  Chillon.  It 
appears  to  sit  right  upon  the  water,  and  does  not  rise 
very  loftily  above  it.  I  was  disappointed  in  its  as 
pect,  having  imagined  this  famous  castle  as  situated 
upon  a  rock,  a  hundred,  or,  for  aught  I  know,  a 
thousand  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  lake ;  but  it 
is  quite  as  impressive  a  fact  —  supposing  it  to  be  true 
• —  that  the  water  is  eight  hundred  feet  deep  at  its 
base.  By  this  time,  the  mountains  had  taken  the 
beautiful  lake  into  their  deepest  heart ;  they  girdled 
it  quite  round  with  their  grandeur  and  beauty,  and, 


3859.]  SWITZERLAND.  277 

being  able  to  do  no  more  for  it,  they  here  withheld 
it  from  extending  any  farther ;  and  here  our  voyage 
came  to  an  end.  I  have  never  beheld  any  scene  so 
exquisite ;  nor  do  I  ask  of  Heaven  to  show  me  any 
lovelier  or  nobler  one,  but  only  to  give  me  such  depth 
and  breadth  of  sympathy  with  nature,  that  I  may 
worthily  enjoy  this.  It  is  beauty  more  than  enough 
for  poor,  perishable  mortals.  If  this  be  earth,  what 
must  heaven  be  ! 

It  was  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  we  arrived ;  and 
then  we  had  a  walk  of  at  least  a  mile  to  the  Hotel 

Byron I  forgot  to  mention  that  in  the  latter 

part  of  our  voyage  there  was  a  shower  in  some  part 
of  the  sky,  and  though  none  of  it  fell  upon  us,  we 
had  the  benefit  of  those  gentle  tears  in  a  rainbow, 
which  arched  itself  across  the  lake  from  mountain  to 
mountain,  so  that  our  track  lay  directly  under  this 
triumphal  arch.  We  took  it  as  a  good  omen,  nor 
were  we  discouraged,  though,  after  the  rainbow  had 
vanished,  a  few  sprinkles  of  the  shower  came  down. 

We  found  the  Hotel  Byron  very  grand  indeed,  and 
a  good  one  too.  There  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  on 
the  lake  and  hills,  but  we  contented  ourselves  with 
looking  out  of  our  lofty  window,  whence,  likewise, 
we  had  a  sidelong  glance  at  the  white  battlements 
of  Chillon,  not  more  than  a  mile  off,  on  the  water's 
edge.  •  The  castle  is  wofully  in  need  of  a  pedestal. 
If  its  site  were  elevated  to  a  height  equal  to  its  own, 
it  would  make  a  far  better  appearance.  As  it  now 
is,  it  looks,  to  speak  profanely  of  what  poetry  has 
consecrated,  when  seen  from  the  water,  or  along  the 


278  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

shore  of  the  lake,  very  like  an  old  whitewashed  fac 
tory  or  mill. 

This  morning  I  walked  to  the  Castle  of  Chillon 

with  J ,  who  sketches  everything  he  sees,  from  a 

wild  flower  or  a  carved  chair  to  a  castle  or  a  range 
of  mountains.  The  morning  had  sunshine  thinly 
scattered  through  it;  but,  nevertheless,  there  was  a 
continual  sprinkle,  sometimes  scarcely  perceptible, 
and  then  again  amounting  to  a  decided  drizzle.  The 
road,  which  is  built  along  on  a  little  elevation  above 
the  lake  shore,  led  us  past  the  Castle  of  Chillon ;  and 
we  took  a  side-path,  which  passes  still  nearer  the 
castle  gate.  The  castle  stands  on  an  isthmus  of 
gravel,  permanently  connecting  it  with  the  main 
land.  A  wooden  bridge,  covered  with  a  roof,  passes 
from  the  shore  to  the  arched  entrance  ;  and  beneath 
this  shelter,  which  has  wooden  walls  as  well  as  roof 
and  floor,  we  saw  a  soldier  or  gendarme  who  seemed 
to  act  as  warder.  As  it  sprinkled  rather  more  freely 
than  at  first,  I  thought  of  appealing  to  his  hospitality 
for  shelter  from  the  rain,  but  concluded  to  pass  on. 

The  castle  makes  a  far  better  appearance  on  a 
nearer  view,  and  from  the  land,  than  when  seen  at 
a  distance,  and  from  the  water.  It  is  built  of  stone, 
and  seems  to  have  been  anciently  covered  with 
plaster,  which  imparts  the  whiteness  to  which  Byron 
docs  much  more  than  justice,  when  he  speaks  of 
"  Chillon's  snow-white  battlements."  There  is  a  lofty 
external  wall,  with  a  cluster  of  round  towers  about 
it,  each  crowned  with  its  pyramidal  ^oof  of  tiles, 
and  from  the  central  portion  of  the  castle  rises  a 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  279 

square  tower,  also  crowned  with  its  own  pyramid 
to  a  considerably  greater  height  than  the  circum 
jacent  ones.  The  whole  are  in  a  close  cluster,  and 
make  a  line  picture  of  ancient  strength  when  seen  at 
a  proper  proximity  ;  for  I  do  not  think  that  distance 
adds  anything  to  the  effect.  There  are  hardly  any 
•windows,  or  few,  and  very  small  ones,  except  the 
loopholes  for  arrows  and  for  the  garrison  of  the 
castle  to  peep  from  on  the  sides  towards  the  water; 
indeed,  there  are  larger  windows  at  least  in  the  upper 
apartments ;  but  in  that  direction,  no  doubt,  the 
castle  was  considered  impregnable.  Trees  here  and 
there  on  the  land  side  grow  up  against  the  castle 
wall,  on  one  part  of  which,  moreover,  there  was  a 
green  curtain  of  ivy  spreading  from  base  to  battle 
ment.  The  walls  retain  their  machicolations,  and 
I  should  judge  that  nothing  had  been  [altered],  nor 
any  more  work  been  done  upon  the  old  fortress  than 
to  keep  it  in  singularly  good  repair.  It  was  formerly 
a  castle  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  and  since  his  sway 
over  the  country  ceased  (three  hundred  years  at 
least),  it  has  been  in  the  hands  of  the  Swiss  govern 
ment,  who  still  keep  some  arms  and  ammunition 
there. 

We  passed  on,  and  found  the  view  of  it  better,  as 
we  thought,  from  a  farther  point  along  the  road. 
The  rain-drops  began  to  spatter  down  faster,  and  we 
took  shelter  under  an  impending  precipice,  where 
the  ledge  of  rock  had  been  blasted  and  hewn  away 
to  form  the  road.  Qur  refuge  was  not  a  very  con 
venient  and  comfortable  one,  so  we  took  advantage 


280  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-LOOKS.        [1859. 

of  the  partial  cessation  of  the  shower  to  turn  home 
ward,  but  had  not  gone  far  when  we  met  mamma 
and  all  her  train.  As  we  were  close  by  the  castle 
entrance;  we  thought  it  advisable  to  seek  admission, 
though  rather  doubtful  whether  the  Swiss  gendarmes 
might  not  deem  it  a  sin  to  let  us  into  the  castle  on 
Sunday.  But  he  very  readily  admitted  us  under  his 
covered  drawbridge,  and  called  an  old  man  from 
within  the  fortress  to  show  us  whatever  was  to  be 
seen.  This  latter  personage  was  a  staid,  rather  grim, 
and  Calvin istic-looking  old  worthy ;  but  he  received 
us  without  scruple,  and  forthwith  proceeded  to  usher 
us  into  a  range  of  most  dismal  dungeons,  extending 
along  the  basement  of  the  castle,  on  a  level  with 
the  surface  of  the  lake.  First,  if  I  remember  aright, 
we  came  to  what  he  said  had  been  a  chapel,  and 
which,  at  all  events,  looked  like  an  aisle  of  one,  or 
rather  such  a  crypt  as  I  have  seen  beneath  a  cathe 
dral,  being  a  succession  of  massive  pillars  supporting 
groined  arches,  —  a  very  admirable  piece  of  gloomy 
Gothic  architecture.  Next,  we  came  to  a  very  dark 
compartment  of  the  same  dungeon  range,  where  he 
pointed  to  a  sort  of  bed,  or  what  might  serve  for 
a  bed,  hewn  in  the  solid  rock,  and  this,  our  guide 
said,  had  been  the  last  sleeping-place  of  condemned 
prisoners  on  the  night  before  their  execution.  The 
next  compartment  was  still  duskier  and  dismaller 
than  the  last,  and  he  bade  us  cast  our  eyes  up  into 
the  obscurity  and  see  a  beam,  where  the  condemned 
ones  used  to  be  hanged.  I  looked  and  looked,  and 
closed  my  eyes  so  as  to  see  the  clearer  in  this  horrible 


1859.]  SWITZEKLAND.  281 

duskiness  on  opening  them  again.  Finally,  I  thought 
I  discerned  the  accursed  beam,  and  the  rest  of  the 
party  were  certain  that  they  saw  it.  Next  beyond 
this,  I  think,  was  a  stone  staircase,  steep,  rudely 
cut,  and  narrow,  down  which  the  condemned  were 
brought  to  death;  and  beyond  this,  still  on  the 
same  basement  range  of  the  castle,  a  low  and  nar 
row  [corridor]  through  which  we  passed,  and  saw  a 
row  of  seven  massive  pillars,  supporting  two  paral 
lel  series  of  groined  arches,  like  those  in  the  chapel 
which  we  first  entered.  This  was  Bonnivard's  prison, 
and  the  scene  of  Byron's  poem. 

The  arches  are  dimly  lighted  by  narrow  loop 
holes,  pierced  through  the  immensely  thick  wall, 
but  at  such  a  height  above  the  floor  that  we  could 
catch  no  glimpse  of  land  or  water,  or  scarcely  of  the 
sky.  The  prisoner  of  Chillon  could  not  possibly 
have  seen  the  island  to  which  Byron  alludes,  and 
which  is  a  little  way  from  the  shore,  exactly  opposite 
the  town  of  Villeneuve.  There  was  light  enough  in 
this  long,  gray,  vaulted  room,  to  show  us  that  all  the 
pillars  were  inscribed  with  the  names  of  visitors, 
among  which  I  saw  no  interesting  one,  except  that 
of  Byron  himself,  which  is  cut,  in  letters  an  inch 
long  or  more,  into  one  of  the  pillars  next  to  that 
to  which  Bonnivard  was  chained.  The  letters  are 
deep  enough  to  remain  in  the  pillar  as  long  as  the 
castle  stands.  Byron  seems  to  have  had  a  fancy  for 
recording  his  name  in  this  and  similar  ways ;  as 
witness  the  record  whiqh  I  saw  on  a  tree  of  Newstead 
Abbey.  In  Bonnivard's  pillar  there  still  remains 


282  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [185&. 

an  iron  ring,  at  the  height  of  perhaps  three  feet  from 
the  ground.  His  chain  was  fastened  to  this  ring, 
and  his  only  freedom  was  to  walk  round  this  pillar, 
about  which  he  is  said  to  have  worn  a  path  in  the 
stone  pavement  of  the  dungeon ;  but  as  the  floor  is 
now  covered  with  earth  of  gravel,  I  could  not  satisfy 
myself  whether  this  be  true.  Certainly  six  years, 
with  nothing  else  to  do  in  them  save  to  walk  round 
the  pillar,  might  well  suffice  to  wear  away  the  rock, 
even  with  naked  feet.  This  column,  and  all  the 
columns,  were  cut  and  hewn  in  a  good  style  of 
architecture,  and  the  dungeon  arches  are  not  with 
out  a  certain  gloomy  beauty.  On  Bonnivard's  pillar, 
as  well  as  on  all  the  rest,  were  many  names  inscribed ; 
but  I  thought  better  of  Byron's  delicacy  and  sensi 
tiveness  for  not  cutting  his  name  into  that  very  pillar. 
Perhaps,  knowing  nothing  of  Bonnivard's  story,  he 
did  not  know  to  which  column  he  was  chained. 

Emerging  from  the  dungeon-vaults,  our  guide  led 
us  through  other  parts  of  the  castle,  showing  us  the 
Duke  of  Savoy's  kitchen,  with  a  fireplace  at  least 
twelve  feet  long;  also  the  judgment-hall,  or  some 
such  place,  hung  round  with  the  coats  of  arms  of 
some  officers  or  other,  and  having  at  one  end  a 
wooden  post,  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and 
having  upon  it  the  marks  of  fire.  By  means  of  this 
post,  contumacious  prisoners  were  put  to  a  dreadful 
torture,  being  drawn  up  by  cords  and  pulleys,  while 
their  limbs  were  scorched  by  a  fire  underneath.  We 
also  saw  a  chapel  or  two,  one  of  which  is  still  in 
good  and  sanctified  condition,  and  was  to  be  used 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  283 

this  very  day,  our  guide  told  us,  for  religious  pur 
poses.  We  saw,  moreover,  the  Duke's  private  cham 
ber,  with  a  part  of  the  bedstead  on  which  he  used 
to  sleep,  and  be  haunted  with  horrible  dreams,  no 
doubt,  and  the  ghosts  of  wretches  whom  he  had 
tortured  and  hanged;  likewise  the  bedchamber  of 
his  duchess,  that  had  in  its  window  two  stone  seats, 
where,  directly  over  the  head  of  Bonnivard,  the 
ducal  pair  might  look  out  on  the  beautiful  scene 
of  lake  and  mountains,  and  feel  the  warmth  of  the 
blessed  sun.  Under  this  window,  the  guide  said,  the 
water  of  the  lake  is  eight  hundred  feet  in  depth ;  an. 
immense  profundity,  indeed,  for  an  inland  lake,  but 
it  is  not  very  difficult  to  believe  that  the  mountain 
at  the  foot  of  which  Chillon  stands  may  descend  so 
far  beneath  the  water.  In  other  parts  of  the  lake 
and  not  distant,  more  than  nine  hundred  feet  have 
been  sounded.  I  looked  out  of  the  duchess's  window, 
and  could  certainly  see  no  appearance  of  a. bottom  in 
the  light  blue  water. 

The  last  thing  that  the  guide  showed  us  was  a 
trap-door,  or  opening,  beneath  a  crazy  old  floor. 
Looking  down  into  this  aperture  we  saw  three  stone 
steps,  which  we  should  have  taken  to  be  the  beginning 
of  a  flight  of  stairs  that  descended  into  a  dungeon,  or 
series  of  dungeons,  such  as  we  had  already  seen.  But 
inspecting  them  more  closely,  we  saw  that  the  third 
step  terminated  the  flight,  and  beyond  was  a  dark 
vacancy.  Three  steps  a  person  would  grope  down, 
planting  his  uncertain  , foot  on  a  dimly  seen  stone; 
the  fourth  step  would  be  in  the  empty  air.  The  guide 


284  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1859. 

told  us  that  it  used  to  be  the  practice  to  bring 
prisoners  hither,  under  pretence  of  committing  them 
to  a  dungeon,  and  make  them  go  down  the  three 
steps  and  that  fourth  fatal  one,  and  they  would  never 
more  be  heard  of;  but  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit  there 
would  be  a  dead  body,  and  in  due  time  a  mouldy 
skeleton,  which  would  rattle  beneath  the  body  of  the 
next  prisoner  that  fell.  I  do  not  believe  that  it  was 
anything  more  than  a  secret  dungeon  for  state  pris 
oners  whom  it  was  out  of  the  question  either  to  set 
at  liberty  or  bring  to  public  trial.  The  depth  of  the 
pit  was  about  forty-five  feet.  Gazing  intently  down, 
I  saw  a  faint  gleam  of  light  at  the  bottom,  apparently 
coming  from  some  other  aperture  than  the  trap-door 
over  which  we  were  bending,  so  that  it  must  have 
been  contemplated  to  supply  it  with  light  and  air  in 
such  degree  as  to  support  human  life.  U de 
clared  she  saw  a  skeleton  at  the  bottom ;  Miss  S 

thought  she  saw  a  hand;  but  I  saw  only  the  dim 
gleam  of  light. 

There  are  twe  or  three  courts  in  the  castle,  but  of 
no  great  size.  We  were  now  led  across  one  of  them, 
and  dismissed  out  of  the  arched  entrance  by  which 
we  had  come  in.  We  found  the  gendarme  still  keep 
ing  watch  on  his  roofed  drawbridge,  and  as  there  was 
the  same  gentle  shower  that  had  been  effusing  itself 
all  the  morning,  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  shelter, 
more  especially  as  there  were  some  curiosities  to  ex 
amine.  These  consisted  chiefly  of  wood  carvings,  — 
such  as  little  figures  in 'the  national  costume,  boxes 
with  wreaths  of  foliage  upon  them,  paper  knives,  the 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  285 

chamois  goat  admirably  well  represented.  We  at  first 
hesitated  to  make  any  advances  towards  trade  with 
the  gendarme  because  it  was  Sunday,  and  we  fancied 
there  might  be  a  Calvinistic  scruple  on  his  part  about 
turning  a  penny  on  the  Sabbath ;  but  from  the  little 
I  know  of  the  Swiss  character,  I  suppose  they  would 
be  as  ready  as  any  other  men  to  sell  not  only  such 
matters,  but  even  their  own  souls,  or  any  smaller  —  or 
shall  we  say  greater  —  thing  on  Sunday  or  at  any 
other  time.  So  we  began  to  ask  the  prices  of  the 
articles,  and  met  with  no  difficulty  in  purchasing  a 
salad  spoon  and  fork,  with  pretty  bas-reliefs  carved  on 
the  handles,  and  a  napkin-ring.  For  Rosebud's  and 
our  amusement,  the  gendarme  now  set  a  musical-box 
a  going ;  and  as  it  played  a  pasteboard  figure  of  a  den 
tist  began  to  pull  the  tooth  of  a  pasteboard  patient, 
lifting  the  wretched  simulacrum  entirely  from  the 
ground,  and  keeping  him  in  this  horrible  torture  for 
half  an  hour.  Meanwhile,  mamma,  Miss  Shepard, 

CJ ,  and  J sat  down  all  in  a  row  on  a  bench 

and  sketched  the  mountains ;  and  as  the  shower  did 
not  cease,  though  the  sun  most  of  the  time  shone 
brightly,  they  were  kept  actual  prisoners  of  Chillon 
much  longer  than  we  wished  to  stay. 

We  took  advantage  of  the  first  cessation,  —  though 
Bcill  the  drops  came  dimpling  into  the  water  that 
rippled  against  the  pebbles  beneath  the  bridge,  —  of 
the  first  partial  cessation  of  the  shower,  to  escape,  and 
returned  towards  the  hotel,  with  this  kindliest  of 

summer  rains  falling  upon  us  most  of  the  way 

In  the  afternoon   the  rain  entirely   ceased,  and  the 


286  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS-        [1859. 

weather  grew  delightfully  radiant,  and  wrarmer  than 

could  well  be  borne  in  the  sunshine.     U and  I 

walked  to  the  village  of  Villeneuve,  —  a  mile  from  the 
hotel/ —  and  found  a  very  commonplace  little  old  town 
of  one  or  two  streets,  standing  on  a  level,  and  as  unin 
teresting  as  if  there  were  not  a  hill  within  a  hundred 
miles.  It  is  strange  what  prosaic  lines  men  thrust  in 
amid  the  poetry  of  nature 

Hotel  de  VAngleterre,  Geneva,  June  \^th.  —  Yester 
day  morning  was  very  fine,  and  we  had  a  pretty  early 
breakfast  at  Hotel  Byron,  preparatory  to  leaving  it. 
This  hotel  is  on  a  magnificent  scale  of  height  and 
breadth,  its  staircases  and  corridors  being  the  most 
spacious  I  have  seen  ;  but  there  is  a  kind  of  meagre- 
ness  in  the  life  there,  and  a  certain  lack  of  heartiness, 
that  prevented  us  from  feeling  at  home.  We  were 
glad  to  get  away,  and  took  the  steamer  on  our  return 
voyage,  in  excellent  spirits.  Apparently  it  had  been 
a  cold  night  in  the  upper  regions,  for  a  great  deal 
more  snow  was  visible  on  some  of  the  mountains  than 
we  had  before  observed  ;  especially  a  mountain  called 
"  Diableries "  presented  a  silver  summit,  and  broad 
sheets  and  fields  of  snow.  Nothing  ever  can  have 
been  more  beautiful  than  those  groups  of  mighty  hills 
as  we  saw  them  then,  with  the  gray  rocks,  the  green 
slopes,  the  white  snow-patches  and  crests,  all  to  be 
seen  at  one  glance,  and  the  mists  and  fleecy  clouds 
tumbling,  rolling,  hovering  about  their  summits,  fill 
ing  their  lofty  valleys,  and  coming  down'  far  towards 
the  lower  world,  making  the  skyey  aspects  so  intimate 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  287 

•with  the  earthly  ones,  that  we  hardly  knew  whether 
we  were  sojourning  in  the  material  or  spiritual  world. 
It  was  like  sailing  through  the  sky,  moreover,  to  be 
borne  along  on  such  water  as  that  of  Lake  Leman,  — 
the  bluest,  brightest,  and  profoundest  element,  the 
most  radiant  eye  that  the  dull  earth  ever  opened  to 
see  heaven  withal.  I  am  writing  nonsense,  but  it  is 
because  no  sense  within  my  mind  will  answer  the 
purpose. 

Some  of  these  mountains,  that  looked  at  no  such 
mighty  distance,  were  at  least  forty  or  fifty  miles  off, 
and  appeared  as  if  they  were  near  neighbors  and 
friends  of  other  mountains,  from  which  they  were 
really  still  farther  removed.  The  relations  into  which 
distant  points  are  brought,  in  a  view  of  mountain 
scenery,  symbolize  the  truth,  which  we  can  never  judge 
within  our  partial  scope  of  vision,  of  the  relations 
which  we  bear  to  our  fellow-creatures  and  human  cir 
cumstances.  These  mighty  mountains  think  that 
they  have  nothing  to  do  with  one  another,  each  seems 
itself  its  own  centre,  and  existing  for  itself  alone  ;  and 
yet,  to  an  eye  that  can  take  them  all  in,  they  are  evi 
dently  portions  of  one  grand  and  beautiful  idea,  which 
could  not  be  consummated  without  the  lowest  and 
the  loftiest  of  them.  I  do  not  express  this  satisfacto 
rily,  but  have  a  genuine  meaning  in  it  nevertheless. 

We  passed  again  by  Chillon,  and  gazed  at  it  as 
long  as  it  was  distinctly  visible,  though  the  water 
view  does  no  justice  to  its  real  picturesqueness,  there 
being  no  towers  nor  'projections  on  the  side  towards 
the  lake,  nothing  but  a  wall  of  dingy  white,  with  an 


288  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.       [1850. 

indentation  that  looks  something  like  a  gateway, 
About  an  hour  and  a  half  brought  us  to  Ouchy,  the 
point  where  passengers  land  to  take  the  omnibus  to 
Lausanne.  The  ascent  from  Ouchy  to  Lausanne  is  a 
mile  and  a  half,  which  it  took  the  omnibus  nearly  half 
an  hour  to  accomplish.  We  left  our  shawls  and  car 
pet-bags  in  the  salle  a  manger  of  the  Hotel  Faucon, 
and  set  forth  to  find  the  Cathedral,  the  pinnacled 
tower  of  which  is  visible  for  a  long  distance  up  and 
down  the  lake.  Prominent  as  it  is,  however,  it  is  by 
no  means  very  easy  to  find  it  while  rambling  through 
the  intricate  streets  and  declivities  of  the  town  itself, 
for  Lausanne  is  the  town,  I  should  fancy,  in  all  the 
world  the  most  difficult  to  go  directly  from  one  point 
to  another.  It  is  built  on  the  declivity  of  a  hill, 
adown  which  run  several  vallej^s  or  ravines,  and  over 
these  the  contiguity  of  houses  extends,  so  that  the 
communication  is  kept  up  by  means  of  steep  streets 
and  sometimes  long  weary  stairs,  which  must  be  sur 
mounted  and  descended  again  in  accomplishing  a  very 
moderate  distance.  In  some  inscrutable  way  we  at 
last  arrived  at  the  Cathedral,  which  stands  on  a  higher 
site  than  any  other  in  Lausanne.  It  has  a  very  ven 
erable  exterior,  with  all  the  Gothic  grandeur  which 
arched  mullioned  windows,  deep  portals,  buttresses, 
towers,  and  pinnacles,  gray  with  a  thousand  years,  can 
give  to  architecture.  After  waiting  awhile  we  ob 
tained  entrance  by  means  of  an  old  woman,  who  acted 
the  part  of  sacristan,  and  was  then  showing  the  church 
to  some  other  visitors. 

The  interior  disappointed  us ;  not  but  what  it  was 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  289 

very  beautiful,  but  I  think  the  excellent  repair  that  it 
was  in,  and  the  puritanic  neatness  with  which  it  is 
kept,  does  much  towards  effacing  the  majesty  and 
mystery  that  belong  to  an  old  church.  Every  inch 
of  every  wall  and  column,  and  all  the  mouldings  and 
tracery,  and  every  scrap  of  grotesque  carving,  had 
been  washed  with  a  drab  mixture.  There  were  like 
wise  seats  all  up  and  down  the  nave,  made  of  pine 
wood,  and  looking  very  new  and  neat,  just  such  seats 
as  I  shall  see  in  a  hundred  meeting-houses  (if  ever  I 
go  into  so  many)  in  America.  Whatever  might  be 
the  reason,  the  stately  nave,  with  its  high-groined 
roof,  the  clustered  columns  and  lofty  pillars,  the  in 
tersecting  arches  of  the  side-aisles,  the  choir,  the 
armorial  and  knightly  tombs  that  surround  what  was 
once  the  high  altar,  all  produced  far  less  effect  than  I 
could  have  thought  beforehand. 

As  it  happened,  we  had  more  ample  time  and  free 
dom  to  inspect  this  Cathedral  than  any  other  that  we 
have  visited,  for  the  old  woman  consented  to  go  away 
and  leave  us  there,  locking  the  door  behind  her.  The 
others,  except  Rosebud,  sat  down  to  sketch  such 
portions  as  struck  their  fancy ;  and  for  myself.  I 
looked  at  the  monuments,  of  which  some,  being  those 
of  old  knights,  ladies,  bishops,  and  a  king,  were 
curious  from  their  antiquity  ;  and  others  are  inter 
esting  as  bearing  memorials  of  English  people,  who 
have  died  at  Lausanne  in  comparatively  recent  years. 
Then  I  went  up  into  the  pulpit,  and  tried,  without 
success,  to  get  intQ  the  stone  gallery  that  runs  all 
round  the  nave ;  and  I  explored  my  way  into  various 

VOL.  II.  13  6 


290  FKENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

side  apartments  of  the  Cathedral,  which  I  found  fitted 
up  with  seats  for  Sabbath  schools,  perhaps,  or  pos 
sibly  for  meeting  of  elders  of  the  Church.  I  opened 
the  great  Bible  of  the  church,  and  found  it  to  be  a 
French  version,  printed  at  Lille  some  fifty  years  ago. 
There  was  also  a  liturgy,  adapted,  probably,  to  the 
Lutheran  form  of  worship.  In  one  of  the  side  apart 
ments  I  found  a  strong  box,  heavily  clamped  with 
iron,  and  having  a  contrivance,  like  the  hopper  of  a 
mill,  by  which  money  could  be  turned  into  the  top, 
while  a  double  lock  prevented  its  being  abstracted 
again.  This  was  to  receive  the  avails  of  contribu 
tions  made  in  the  church;  and  there  were  like 
wise  boxes,  stuck  on'  the  ends  of  long  poles,  where 
with  the  deacons  could  go  round  among  the  worship 
pers,  conveniently  extending  the  begging-box  to  the 
remotest  curmudgeon  among  them  all.  From  the 
arrangement  of  the  seats  in  the  nave,  and  the  labels 
pasted  or  painted  on  them,  I  judged  that  the  women 
sat  on  one  side  and  the  men  on  the  other,  and  the 
seats  for  various  orders  of  magistrates,  and  for  eccle 
siastical  and  collegiate  people,  were  likewise  marked 
out. 

I  soon  grew  weary  of  these  investigations,  and  so 
did  Rosebud  and  J ,  who  essayed  to  amuse  them 
selves  with  running  races  together  over  the  horizontal 
tombstones  in  the  pavement  of  the  choir,  treading 
remorselessly  over  the  noseless  effigies  of  old  digni 
taries,  who  never  expected  to  be  so  irreverently 
treated.  I  put  a  stop  to  their  sport,  and  banished 
them  to  different  parts  of  the  Cathedral ;  and  by  and 


1859.]  SWITZERLAND.  291 

by,  the  old  woman  appeared  again,  and  released  us 
from  durance 

While  waiting  for  onr  dejeuner,  we  saw  the  people 
dining  at  the  regular  table  d'hote  of  the  hotel,  and  the 
idea  was  strongly  borne  in  upon  me,  that  the  pro 
fessional  mystery  of  a  male  waiter  is  a  very  unmanly 
one.  It  is  so  absurd  to  see  the  solemn  attentiveness 
with  which  they  stand  behind  the  chairs,  the  earnest 
ness  of  their  watch  for  any  crisis  that  may  demand 
their  interposition,  the  gravity  of  their  manner  in 
performing  some  little  office  that  the  guest  might 
better  do  for  himself,  their  decorous  and  softly  steps  ; 
in  short,  as  I  sat  and  gazed  at  them,  they  seemed  to 
me  not  real  men,  but  creatures  with  a  clerical  aspect, 
engendered  out  of  a  very  artificial  state  of  society. 
When  they  are  waiting  on  myself,  they  do  not  appear 
so  absurd  ;  it  is  necessary  to  stand  apart  in  order  to 
see  them  properly. 

We  left  Lausanne  —  which  was  to  us  a  tedious  and 
weary  place  —  before  four  o'clock.  I  should  have  liked 
well  enough  to  see  the  house  of  Gibbon,  and  the 
garden  in  which  he  walked,  after  finishing  .  "  The 
Decline  and  Fall "  ;  but  it  could  not  be  done  without 
some  trouble  and  inquiry,  and  as  the  house  did  not 
come  to  see  me,  I  determined  not  to  go  and  see  the 
house.  There  was,  indeed,  a  mansion  of  somewhat 
antique  respectability,  near  our  hotel,  having  a  garden 
and  a  shaded  terrace  behind  it,  which  would  have 
answered  accurately  enough  to  the  idea  of  Gibbon's 
residence.  Perhaps  it  was  so ;  far  more  probably 
not. 


202  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

Our  former  voyages  had  been  taken  in  the  Hiron- 
delie ;  we  now,  after  broiling  for  some  time  in  the 
sunshine  by  the  lake-side,  got  on  board  of  the  Aigle, 
No.  2.  There  were  a  good  many  passengers,  the 
larger  proportion  of  whom  seemed  to  be  English  and 
American,  and  among  the  latter  a  large  party  of 
talkative  ladies,  old  and  young.  The  voyage  was 
pleasant  while  we  were  protected  from  the  sun  by  the 
awning  overhead,  but  became  scarcely  agreeable  when 
the  sun  had  descended  so  low  as  to  shine  in  our 
faces  or  on  our  backs.  We  looked  earnestly  for  Mont 
Blanc,  which  ought  to  have  been  visible  during  a 
large  part  of  our  course ;  but  the  clouds  gathered 
themselves  hopelessly  over  the  portion  of  the  sky 
where  the  great  mountain  lifted  his  white  peak ;  and 
we  did  not  see  it,  and  probably  never  shall.  As  to 
the  meaner  mountains,  there  were  enough  of  them, 
and  beautiful  enough  ;  but  we  were  a  little  weary, 

and    feverish   with   the    heat I    think   I  had 

a  head-ache,  though  it  is  so  unusual  a  complaint 
with  me,  that  I  hardly  know  it  when  it  comes. 
We  were  none  of  us  sorry,  therefore,  when  the  Eagle 
brought  us  to  the  quay  of  Geneva,  only  a  short  dis 
tance  from  our  hotel 

To-day  I  wrote  to  Mr.  WTilding,  requesting  him  to 
secure  passages  for  us  from  Liverpool  on  the  15th  of 
next  month,  or  1st  of  August.  It  makes  my  "heart 
thrill,  half  pleasantly,  half  otherwise  ;  so  much  nearer 
does  this  step  seem  to  bring  that  home  whence  I 
have  now  been  absent  six  }rears,  and  which,  when  I 
see  it  again,  may  turn  out  to  be  not  my  home  any 


1859.]  FRANCE.  293 

longer.  I  likewise  wrote  to  Bennoch,  though  I  know 
not  his  present  address;  but  I  should  deeply  grieve 
to  leave  England  without  seeing  him.  He  and 
Henry  Bright  are  the  only  two  men  in  England  to 
whom  I  shall  be  much  grieved  to  bid  farewell;  but 
to  the  island  itself  I  cannot  bear  to  say  that  word, 
as  a  finality.  I  shall  dreamily  hope  to  come  back 
again  at  some  indefinite  time;  rather  foolishly  per 
haps,  for  it  will  tend  to  take  the  substance  out  of  my 
life  in  my  own  land.  But  this,  I  suspect,  is  apt  to 
be  the  penalty  of  those  who  stay  abroad,  and  stay 
too  long. 

HAVRE. 

Hotel  Wheeler,  June  22<f. —  We  arrived,  at  this 
hotel  last  evening  from  Paris,  and  find  ourselves  on 
the  borders  of  the  Petit  Quay  Notre  Dame,  with 
steamers  and  boats  right  under  our  windows,  and 
all  sorts  of  dock-business  going  on  briskly.  There 
are  barrels,  bales,  and  crates  of  goods ;  there  are  old 
iron  cannon  for  posts ;  in  short,  all  that  belongs  to  the 

Wapping   of  a   great   seaport The   American 

partialities  of  the  guests  [of  this  hotel]  are  consulted 
by  the  decorations  of  the  parlor,  in  which  hang  two 
lithographs  and  colored  views  of  New  York,  from 
Brooklyn  and  from  Weehawken.  The  fashion  of  the 
house  is  a  sort  of  nondescript  mixture  of  Frank, 
English,  and  American,  and  is  not  disagreeable  to  us 
after  our  weary  experience  of  Continental  life.  The 
abundance  of  the  food'is  very  acceptable  in  comparison 
with  the  meagreness  of  French  and  Italian  meals ;  and 


294  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [1859. 

last  evening  we  supped  nobly  on  cold  roast  beef  and 
ham,  set  generously  before  us,  in  the  mass,  instead 
of  being  doled  out  in  slices  few  and  thin.  The  waiter 
has  a  kindly  sort  of  manner,  and  resembles  the 
steward  of  a  vessel  rather  than  a  landsman;  and, 
in  short,  everything  here  has  undergone  a  change, 
which  might  admit  of  very  effective  description.  I 
may  now  as  well  give  up  all  attempts  at  journalizing. 
So  I  shall  say  nothing  of  our  journey  across  France 
from  Geneva To-night  we  shall  take  our  de 
parture  in  a  steamer  for  Southampton,  whence  we 
shall  go  to  London;  thence,  in  a  week  or  two,  to 
Liverpool;  thence  to  Boston  and  Concord,  there  to 
enjoy  —  if  enjoyment  it  prove  —  a  little  rest  and  a 
sense  that  we  are  at  home. 

[More  than  four  months  were  now  taken  up  in 
writing  "  The  Marble  Faun "  in  great  part  at  the 
seaside  town  of  Redcar,  Yorkshire,  Mr.  Hawthorne 
having  concluded  to  remain  another  year  in  England, 
chiefly  to  accomplish  that  romance.  In  Redcar,  where 
he  remained  till  September  or  October,  he  wrote  no 
journal,  but  only  the.  book.  He  then  went  to  Leam 
ington,  where  he  finished  "The  Marble  Faun"  in 
March,  and  there  is  a  little  journalizing  soon  after 
leaving  Redcar.  —  ED.] 

ENGLAND. 

Leamington,  November   \±th,   1859. — J and  I 

walked  to  Lillington  the  other  day.  Its"  little  church 
was  undergoing  renovation  when  we  were  here  two 


I860.]  ENGLAND.  295 

years  ago,  and  now  seems  to  be  quite  renewed,  with 
the  exception  of  its  square,  gray,  battlemented  tower, 
which  has  still  the  aspect  of  unadulterated  antiquity. 

On  Saturday  J and  I  walked  to  Warwick  by  the 

old  road,  passing  over  the  bridge  of  the  Avon,  within 
view  of  the  castle.  It  is  as  fine  a  piece  of  English 
scenery  as  exists  anywhere,  —  the  quiet  little  river, 
shadowed  with  drooping  trees,  and,  in  its  vista,  the 
gray  towers  and  long  line  of  windows  of  the  lordly 
castle,  with  a  picturesquely  varied  outline;  ancient 
strength,  a  lictle  softened  by  decay 

The  town  of  Warwick,  I  think,  has  been  con 
siderably  modernized  since  I  first  saw  it.  The  whole 
of  the  central  portion  of  the  principal  street  now 
looks  modern,  with  its  stiiccoed  or  brick  fronts  of 
houses,  and,  in  many  cases,  handsome  shop  windows. 
Leicester  Hospital  and  its  adjoining  chapel  still  look 
venerably  antique ;  and  so  does  a  gateway  that  half 
bestrides  the  street.  Beyond  these  two  points  on 
either  side  it  has  a  much  older  aspect.  The  modern 
signs  heighten  the  antique  impression. 

February  §th,  1860. — -Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bennoch  are 

staying  for  a  little  while  at  Mr.  B 's  at  Coventry, 

and  Mr.  B called  upon  us  the  other  day,  with 

Mr.  Bennoch,  and  invited  us  to  go  and  see  the  lions  of 

Coventry  ;  so  yesterday  U and  I  went.  It  was 

not  my  first  visit,  therefore  I  have  little  or  nothing  to 
record,  unless  it  were  to  describe  a  ribbon-factory  into 
which  Mr.  B took  us.  But  I  have  no  compre 
hension  of  machinery,  and  have  only  a  confused  recol 
lection  of  an  edifice  of  four  or  five  stories,  on  each 


296  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [i860. 

floor  of  which  were  rows  of  huge  machines,  all  busy 
with  their  iron  hands  and  joints  in  turning  out  deli 
cate  ribbons.  It  was  very  curious  and  unintelligible 
to  me  to  observe  how  they  caused  different  colored 
patterns  to  appear,  and  even  flowers  to  blossom,  011 
the  plain  surface  of  a  ribbon.  Some  of  the  designs 
were  pretty,  and  I  was  told  that  one  manufacturer 
pays  <£  500  annually  to  French  artists  (or  artisans,  for 
I  do  not  know  whether  they  have  a  connection  with 
higher  art)  merely  for  new  patterns  of  ribbons.  The 
English  find  it  impossible  to  supply  themselves  with 
tasteful  productions  of  this  sort  merely  from  the  re 
sources  of  English  fancy.  If  an  Englishman  possessed 
the  artistic  faculty  to  the  degree  requisite  to  produce 
such  things,  he  would  doubtless  think  himself  a  great 
artist,  and  scorn  to  devote  himself  to  these  humble 
purposes.  Every  Frenchman  is  probably  more  of  an 
artist  than  one  Englishman  in  a  thousand. 

We  ascended  to  the  very  roof  of  the  factory,  and 
gazed  thence  over  smoky  Coventry,  which  is  now  a 
town  of  very  considerable  size,  and  rapidly  on  the  in 
crease.  The  three  famous  spires  rise  out  of  the  midst, 
that  of  St.  Michael  being  the  tallest  and  very  beauti 
ful.  Had  the  day  been  clear,  we  should  have  had  a 
•wide  view  on  all  sides ;  for  Warwickshire  is  well  laid 
out  for  distant  prospects,  if  you  can  only  gain  a  little 
elevation  from  which  to  see  them. 

Descending  from  the  roof,  we  next  went  to  see  Trinity 
Church,  which  has  just  come  through  an  entire  process 
of  renovation,  whereby  much  of  its  pristine  beauty 
has  doubtless  been  restored ;  but  its  venerable  awful- 


I860.]  ENGLAND.  297 

ness  is  greatly  impaired.  We  went  into  three  churches, 
and  found  that  they  had  all  been  subjected  to  the 
same  process.  It  would  be  nonsense  to  regret  it,  be 
cause  the  very  existence  of  these  old  edifices  is 
involved  in  their  being  renewed ;  but  it  certainly  does 
deprive  them  of  a  great  part  of  their  charm,  and  puts 
one  in  mind  of  wigs,  padding,  and  all  such  devices  for 
giving  decrepitude  the  aspect  of  youth.  In  the  pave 
ment  of  the  nave  and  aisles  there  are  worn  tomb 
stones,  with  defaced  inscriptions,  and  discolored  mar 
bles  affixed  against  the  wall ;  monuments,  too,  where 
a  mediaeval  man  and  wife  sleep  side  by  side  on  a  mar 
ble  slab  ;  and  other  tombs  so  old  that  the  inscriptions 
are  quite  gone.  Over  an  arch,  in  one  of  the  churches, 
there  was  a  fresco,  so  old,  dark,  faded,  and  blackened, 
that  I  found  it  impossible  to  make  out  a  single  figure 
or  the  slightest  hint  of  the  design.  On  the  whole, 
after  seeing  the  churches  of  Italy,  I  was  not  greatly 
impressed  with  these  attempts  to  renew  the  ancient 
beauty  of  old  English  minsters  ;  it  would  be  better  to 
preserve  as  sedulously  as  possible  their  aspect  of  de 
cay,  in  which  consists  the  principal  charm 

On  our  way  to  Mr.  B 's  house,  we  looked  into 

the  quadrangle  of  a  charity-school  and  old  men's  hos 
pital,  and  afterwards  stepped  into  a  large  Roman 
Catholic  church,  erected  within  these  few  years  past, 
and  closely  imitating  the  mediaeval  architecture  and 
arrangements.  It  is  strange  what  a  plaything,  a 
trifle,  an  unserious  affair,  this  imitative  spirit  makes 
of  a  huge,  ponderous  edifice,  which  if  it  had  really 
been  built  five  hundred  years  ago  would  have  been 
13* 


298  FEENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [i860. 

worthy  of  all  respect.  I  think  the  time  must  soon 
come  when  this  sort  of  thing  will  be  held  in  utmost 
scorn,  until  the  lapse  of  time  shall  give  it  a  claim  to 
respect.  But,  methinks,  we  had  better  strike  out  any 
kind  of  architecture,  so  it  be  our  own,  however 
wretched,  than  thus  tread  back  upon  the  past. 

Mr.  B now  conducted  us  to  his  residence, 

which  stands  a  little  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
on  the  declivity  of  a  hill,  and  in  so  windy  a  spot  that, 
as  he  assured  me,  the  very  plants  are  blown  out  of  the 
ground.  He  pointed  to  two  maimed  trees  whose  tops 
were  blown  off  by  a  gale  two  or  three  years  since  ; 
but  the  foliage  still  covers  their  shortened  summits  in 
summer,  so  that  he  does  not  think  it  desirable  to  cut 
them  down. 

In  America,  a  man  of  Mr.  B 's  property  would 

take  upon  himself  the  state  and  dignity  of  a  million- 
naire.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  in  England,  that  money 
gives  a  man  no  pretensions  to  rank,  and  does  not  bring 
the  responsibilities  of  a  great  position. 

We  found  three  or  four  gentlemen  to  meet  us  at 

dinner,  —  a  Mr.  D and  a  Mr.  B ,  an  author, 

having  written  a  book  called  "  The  Philosophy  of  Ne 
cessity,"  and  is  acquainted  with  Emerson,  who  spent 
two  or  three  days  at  his  house  when  last  in  England. 
He  was  very  kindly  appreciative  of  my  own  produc 
tions,  as  was  also  his  wife,  next  to  whom  I  sat  at 
dinner.  She  talked  to  me  about  the  author  of  "  Adam 
Bede,"  whom  she  has  known  intimately  all  her  life. 
.  .  .  .  Miss  Evans  (who  wrote  "Adam  Bcde")  was  the 
daughter  of  a  steward,  and  gained  her  exact  knowl- 


I860.]  ENGLAND.  299 

edge  of  English  rural  life  by  the  connection  with 
which  this  origin  brought  her  with  the  farmers.  She 
was  entirely  self-educated,  and  has  made  herself  an 
admirable  scholar  in  classical  as  well  as  in  modern 
languages.  Those  who  knew  her  had  always  recog 
nized  her  wonderful  endowments,  and  only  watched 
to  see  in  what  way  they  would  develop  themselves. 
She  is  a  person  of  the  simplest  manners  and  character, 

amiable  and  unpretending,  and  Mrs.  B spoke  of 

her  with  great  affection  and  respect Mr.  B , 

our  host,  is  an  extremely  sensible  man ;  and  it  is  re 
markable  how  many  sensible  men  there  are  in  Eng 
land,  —  men  who  have  read  and  thought,  and  can 
develop  very  good  ideas,  not  exnctly  original,  yet  so 
much  the  product  of  their  own  minds  that  they  can 

fairly  call  them  their  own 

February  18^/i. —  ....  This  present  month  has 
been  somewhat  less  dismal  than  the  preceding  ones ; 
there  have  been  some  sunny  and  breezy  days  when 
there  was  life  in  the  air,  affording  something  like 
enjoyment  in  a  walk,  especially  when  the  ground 
was  frozen.  It  is  agreeable  to  see  the  fields  still  green 
through  a  partial  covering  of  snow;  the  trunks  and 
branches  of  the  leafless  trees,  moreover,  have  a  ver 
dant  aspect,  very  unlike  that  of  American  trees  in 
winter,  for  they  are  covered  with  a  delicate  green  moss, 
which  is  not  so  observable  in  summer.  Often,  too, 
there  is  a  twine  of  green  ivy  up  and  down  the  trunk. 

The  other  day,  as  J and  I  were  walking  to  Whit- 

nash,  an  elm  was  felfed  right  across  our  path,  and  I 
was  much  struck  by  this  verdant  coating  of  moss 


300  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [i860. 

over  all  its  surface,  —  the  moss  plants  too  minute  to 
be  seen  individually,  but  making  the  whole  tree 
green.  It  has  a  pleasant  effect  here,  where  it  is  the 
natural  aspect  of  trees  in  general ;  but  in  America  a 
mossy  tree-trunk  is  not  a  pleasant  object,  because  it 
is  associated  with  damp,  low,  unwholesome  situations. 
The  lack  of  foliage  gives  many  new  peeps  and  vistas, 
hereabouts,  which  I  never  saw  in  summer. 

March    \1th.  —  J and    I  walked  to   Warwick 

yesterday  forenoon,  and  went  into  St.  Mary's  Church, 

to  see  the  Beauchamp  chapel On  one  side  of 

it  were  some  worn  steps  ascending  to  a  confessional, 
where  the  priest  used  to  sit,  while  the  penitent,  in  the 
body  of  the  church,  poured  his  sins  through  a  per 
forated  auricle  into  this  unseen  receptacle.  The 
sexton  showed  us,  too,  a  very  old  chest  which  had 
been  found  in  the  burial  vault,  with  some  ancient 
armor  stored  away  in  it.  Three  or  four  helmets  of- 
rusty  iron,  one  of  them  barred,  the  last  with  visors, 
and  all  intolerably  weighty,  were  ranged  in  a  row. 
What  heads  those  must  have  been  that  could  bear 
such  massiveness !  On  one  of  the  helmets  was  a 
wooden  crest  —  some  bird  or  other  —  that  of  itself 
Weighed  several  pounds 

BATH. 

April  23d.  —  We  have  been  here  several  weeks. 
,  .  .  .  Had  I  seen  Bath  earlier  in  my  English  life,  I 
might  have  written  many  pages  about  it,  for  it  is  really 
a  picturesq-ie  and  interesting  city.  It  is  completely 


I860.]  ENGLAND.  301 

sheltered  in  the  lap  of  hills,  the  sides  of  the  valley 
rising  steep  and  high  from  the  level  spot  on  which  it 
stands,  and  through  which  runs  the  muddy  little 
stream  of  the  Avon.  The  older  part  of  the  town  is 
on  the  level,  and  the  more  modern  growth  —  the 
growth  of  more  than  a  hundred  years  —  climbs  higher 
and  higher  up  the  hillside,  till  the  upper  streets  are 
very  airy  and  lofty.  The  houses  are  built  almost 
entirely  of  Bath  stone,  which  in  time  loses  its  origi 
nal  buff  color,  and  is  darkened  by  age  and  coal- 
smoke  into  a  dusky  gray ;  but  still  the  city  looks 
clean  and  pure  as  compared  with  most  other  English 
towns.  In  its  architecture,  it  has  somewhat  of  a 
Parisian  aspect,  the  houses  having  roofs  rising  steep 
from  their  high  fronts,  which  are  often  adorned  with 
pillars,  pilasters,  and  other  good  devices,  so  that  you 
see  it  to  be  a  town  built  with  some  general  idea  of 
beauty,  and  not  for  business.  There  are  Circuses, 
Crescents,  Terraces,  Parades,  and  all  such  fine  names 
as  we  have  become  familiar  with  at  Leamington,  and 
other  watering-places.  The  declivity  of  most  of  the 
streets  keeps  them  remarkably  clean,  and  they  are 
paved  in  a  very  comfortable  way,  with  large  blocks 
of  stone,  so  that  the  middle  of  the  street  is  generally 
practicable  to  walk  upon,  although  the  sidewalks 
leave  no  temptation  so  to  do,  being  of  generous 
width.  In  many  alleys,  and  round  about  the  Abbey 
and  other  edifices,  the  pavement  is  of  square  flags, 
like  those  of  Florence,  and  as  smooth  as  a  palace 
floor.  On  the  whole,  I  suppose  there  is  no  place  ii'* 
England  where  a  retired  man,  with  a  moderate  in- 


302"         FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [i860. 

come,  could  live  so  tolerably  as  at  Bath}  it  being 
almost  a  city  in  size  and  social  advantages  5  quite  so, 
indeed,  if  eighty  thousand  people  make  a  city,  —  and 
yet  having  no  annoyance  of  business  nor  spirit  of 
worldly  struggle.  All  modes  of  enjoyment  that  Eng- 
.lish  people  like  may  be  had  here ;  and  even  the  cli 
mate  is  said  to  be  milder  than  elsewhere  in  England. 
How  this  may  be,  I  know  not ;  but  we  have  rain 
or  passing  showers  almost  every  day  since  we  arrived, 
and  I  suspect  the  surrounding  hills  are  just  about  of 
that  inconvenient  height,  that  keeps  catching  clouds, 
and  compelling  them  to  squeeze  out  their  moisture 
upon  the  included  valley.  The  air,  however,  certainly 

is  preferable  to  that  of  Leamington 

There  are  no  antiquities  except  the  Abbey,  which 
has  not  the  interest  of  many  other  English  churches 
and  cathedrals.  In  the  midst  of  the  old  part  of  the 
town,  stands  the  house  which  was  formerly  Beau 
Nash's  residence,  but  which  is  now  part  of  the  es 
tablishment  of  an  ale-merchant.  The  edifice  is  a  tall, 
but  rather  mean-looking,  stone  building,  with  the 
entrance  from  a  little  side  court,  which  is  so  cumbered 
with  empty  beer  barrels  as  hardly  to  afford  a  passage. 
The  doorway  has  some  architectural  pretensions,  being 
pillared  and  with  some  sculptured  devices  —  whether 
lions  or  winged  heraldic  monstrosities  I  forget  —  on 
the  pediment.  Within,  there  is  a  small  entry,  not 
large  enough  to  be  termed  a  hall,  and  a  staircase, 
with  carved  balustrade,  ascending  by  angular  turns 
and  square  landing-places.  For  a  long  course  of 
yea^s,  ending  a  little  more  than  a  century  ago,  princes, 


I860.]  ENGLAND.  303 

nobles,  and  all  the  great  and  beautiful  people  of 
old  times,  used  to  go  up  that  staircase,  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  King  of  Bath.  On  the  side  of  the 
house  there  is  a  marble  slab  inserted,  recording  that 
here  he  resided,  and  that  here  he  died  in  1767, 
between  eighty  and  ninety  years  of  age.  My  first 
acquaintance  with  him  was  in  Smollett's  "  Roderick 
Random,"  and  I  have  met  him  in  a  hundred  other 
novels. 

His  marble  statue  is  in  a  niche  at  one  end  of  the 
great  pump-room,  in  wig,  square-skirted  coat,  flapped 
waistcoat,  and  all  the  queer  costume  of  the  period, 
still  looking  ghost-like  upon  the  scene  where  he  used 
to  be  an  autocrat.  Marble  is  not  a  good  material  for 
Beau  Nash,  however ;  or,  if  so,  it  requires  color  to  set 
him  off  adequately 

It  is  usual  in  Bath  to  see  the  old  sign  of  the 
checker-board  on  the  doorposts  of  taverns.  It  was 
originally  a  token  that  the  game  might  be  played 
there,  and  is  now  merely  a  tavern-sign. 

LONDON.    * 

31  Hertford  Street,  Mayfair,  May  IGth,  1860. — 
I  came  hither  from  Bath  on  the  14th,  and  am 
staying  with  my  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Motley.  I 
would  gladly  journalize  some  of  my  proceedings,  and 
describe  things  and  people ;  but  I  find  the  same  cold 
ness  and  stiffness  in  my  pen  as  always  since  our 
return  to  England.  'I  dined  with  the  Motleys  at 
Lord  Dufferin's,  on  Monday  evening,  and  there  met, 


304  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [i860. 

among  a  few  other  notable  people,  the  Honorable 
Mrs.  Norton,  a  dark,  comely  woman,  who  doubtless 
was  once  most  charming,  and  still  has  charms,  at 
above  fifty  years  of  age.  In  fact,  I  should  not  have 
taken  her  to  be  greatly  above  thirty,  though  she 
seems  to  use  no  art  to  make  herself  look  younger, 
and  talks  about  her  time  of  life,  without  any  squeam- 
ishness.  Her  voice  is  very  agreeable,  having  a  sort 
of  muffled  quality,  which  is  excellent  in  woman.  She 
is  of  a  very  cheerful  temperament,  and  so  has  borne 
a  great  many  troubles  without  being  destroyed  by 
them.  But  I  can  get  no  color  into  my  sketch,  so 
shall  leave  it  here. 

London,  May  1 7th.  [From  a  letter.]  —  Affairs  suc 
ceed  each  other  so  fast,  that  I  have  really  forgotten 
what  I  did  yesterday.  I  remember  seeing  my  dear 
friend,  Henry  Bright,  and  listening  to  him,  as  we 
strolled  in  the  Park,  and  along  the  Strand.  To-day 
I  met  at  breakfast  Mr.  Field  Talfourd,  who  promises 
to  send  you  the  photograph  of  his  portrait  of  Mr. 
Browning.  He  was  very  agreeable,  and  seemed  de 
lighted  to  see  me  again.  At  lunch,  we  had  Lord 
Dufferin,  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Norton,  and  Mr.  Ster 
ling  (author  of  the  "  Cloister  Life  of  Charles  V."),  with 
whom  we  are  to  dine  on  Sunday. 

You  would  be  stricken  dumb,  to  see  how  quietly  I 
accept  a  whole  string  of  invitations,  and  what  is  more, 
perform  my  engagements  without  a  murmur. 

A  German  artist  has  come  to  me  with  a  letter  of 
introduction,  and  a  request  that  I  will  sit  to  him  for  a 


1862.]  *  AMERICA.  305 

portrait  in  bas-relief.  To  this,  likewise,  I  have  as 
sented  !  subject  to  the  condition  that  I  shall  have  my 
leisure. 

The  stir  of  this  London  life,  somehow  or  other,  has 
done  me  a  wonderful  deal  of  good,  and  I  feel  better 
than  for  months  past.  This  is  strange,  for  if  I  had 
my  choice,  I  should  leave  undone  almost  all  the 
things  I  do. 

I  have  had  time  to  see  Bennoch  only  once. 

[This  closes  the  European  Journal.  After  Mr. 
Hawthorne's  return  to  America,  he  published  "Our 
Old  Home,"  and  began  a  new  romance,  of  which  two 
chapters  appeared  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  But  the 
breaking  out  of  the  war  stopped  all  imaginative  work 
with  him,  and  all  journalizing,  until  1862,  when  he 
went  to  Maine  for  a  little  excursion,  and  began 
another  journal,  from  which  I  take  one  paragraph, 
giving  a  slight  note  of  his  state  of  mind  at  an  interest 
ing  period  of  his  country's  history.  —  ED.] 

West  Gouldsborough,  August  15th,  1862.  —  It  is  a 

week  ago,  Saturday,  since  J and  I  reached  this 

place,  ....  Mr.  Barney  S.  Hill's. 

At  Hallowell,  and  subsequently  all  along  the  route, 
the  country  was  astir  with  volunteers,  and  the  war  is 
all  that  seems  to  be  alive,  and  even  that  doubtfully 
so.  Nevertheless,  the  country  certainly  shows  a  good 
spirit,  the  towns  offering  everywhere  most  liberal 
bounties,  and  every  able-bodied  man  feels  an  immense 
pull  and  pressure  upon  him  to  go  to  the  war.  I  doubt 
whether  any  people  was  ever  actuated  by  a  more 

T 


306  FRENCH  AND  ITALIAN  NOTE-BOOKS.        [18C2. 

genuine  and  disinterested  public  spirit ;  though,  of 
course,  it  is  not  unalloyed  with  baser  motives  and 
tendencies.  We  met  a  train  of  cars  with  a  regiment 
or  two  just  starting  for  the  South,  and  apparently  in 
high  spirits.  Everywhere  some  insignia  of  soldiership 
were  to  be  seen,  —  bright  buttons,  a  red  stripe  down 
the  trousers,  a  military  cap,  and  sometimes  a  round- 
shouldered  bumpkin  in  the  entire  uniform.  They 
require  a  great  deal  to  give  them  the  aspect  of  soldiers ; 
indeed,  it  seems  as  if  they  needed  to  have  a  good  deal 
taken  away  and  added,  like  the  rough  clay  of  a  sculp 
tor  as  it  grows  to  be  a  model.  The  whole  talk  of  the 
bar-rooms  and  every  other  place  of  intercourse  was 
about  enlisting  and  the  war,  this  being  the  very  crisis 
of  trial,  when  the  voluntary  system  is  drawing  to  an 
end,  and  the  draft  almost  immediately  to  commence. 


THE   END. 


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